


And When the Sky Was Opened

by Lauralot, osprey_archer



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Beating, Child Neglect, Gen, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Non-Sexual Age Play, Past Child Abuse, Reciprocity, Self-Hatred, Stuffed Toys, Suicidal Thoughts, Vomiting, Withdrawal, alexander pierce should have died slower
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-05-14 12:24:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 23,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5743789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauralot/pseuds/Lauralot, https://archiveofourown.org/users/osprey_archer/pseuds/osprey_archer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers from <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/osprey_archer/pseuds/osprey_archer">osprey_archer's</a> <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/161309">Reciprocity</a> series find themselves playing host to the Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers from <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/114886">Alexander Pierce should have died slower.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reciprocity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [osprey_archer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/osprey_archer/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4945429) by [osprey_archer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/osprey_archer/pseuds/osprey_archer). 



> Those of you who've read _Little Interludes_ will notice that the first chapter of this work appeared there. Originally, someone requested that I write a one shot about the Buckys from Reciprocity and APSHDS interacting. But then, [Swiggity_swydra_fuck_hydra](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Swiggity_swydra_fuck_hydra/pseuds/Swiggity_swydra_fuck_hydra) gave me several more suggestions in the comments of that chapter for interactions that they could have, enough so that I felt they warranted their own separate fic.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky learns that Pierce was a little more sadistic in the other world.

Bucky scowls, rifling through his dresser. “Why did the other me have to be stupid?”

“He’s not stupid, Buck,” Steve says. He glances down the hallway and shuts the door.

“He threw up all over himself.”

“He couldn’t help that.”

Bucky doesn’t answer, grabbing one of his shirts. Of course Steve doesn’t mind that the other Bucky puked everywhere. He must _love_ the other Bucky: all sniffling and clinging and apologizing. He’s everything Steve could ever want. “He better not get sick on my clothes.”

“He won’t, Bucky.”

The doppelganger’s going to be swimming in Bucky’s clothes, anyway. He’s nowhere near fighting weight; there’s no way he can go on missions in his own world. Did Coulson completely break the doppelganger during his debriefing? Or did Pierce fry his brain?

Bucky stomps toward the hallway as Steve opens the door. “This sucks. I’ve read sci-fi. When doppelgangers meet, they’re supposed to fuck, not have a goddamn nervous breakdown.”

There’s a loud sob from the bathroom. Bucky doesn’t even have to look to know that Steve’s glaring at him.

It’s not fair. He was having a good day before Sam showed up with these idiots in tow. Apparently, they’d been in Central Park in their own world when a rogue Asgardian showed up and blasted them here. Why couldn’t they have ended up in New York instead of DC? They would have been Tony’s problem. Or even Coulson’s. The doppelgangers are clearly worthless, so he’d have no reason to keep them around the CIA.

“It’s all right,” the other Steve is saying in the bathroom. “You’re okay, Bucky. Nobody’s going to hurt you. We’re safe here.”

He scowls at the bullshit the other Steve is spewing. The scowl only deepens when the other Bucky doesn’t call it out.

“You’re okay, lamb,” the other Steve continues, and Bucky’s stomach gives a lurch. He can hear Pierce’s voice now. _You don’t understand, sweetheart. You hit your head so hard...just leave these things to me._

Maybe the other Bucky really is brain-damaged. It would explain a hell of a lot. And it would make him a little less contemptible. Besides, Bucky has experience with the some of the brain-damaged agents at the Home. And Fitz.

“They know you didn’t mean to get sick,” the other Steve says, as Bucky stops in the bathroom doorway with the change of clothes. “It’s all right.”

“But Daddy—”

“ _Daddy?_ ” Bucky repeats. “He calls you _Daddy_?”

Fitz never called Coulson that.

His doppelganger lets out a whimper that makes the hair on the back of Bucky’s neck stand on end, hiding his face in his hands. Bucky’s pretty sure he just crossed a line. But what the fuck?

“I can explain,” the other Steve says, hugging onto his Bucky.

“You don’t need to.” Bucky shoves his hands out, just wanting to drop off the clothes and get the fuck away, but the other Steve isn’t moving. “The other me’s fucked in the head. I get it.”

Another sob.

“Alexander Pierce ordered him to act like a little boy between missions,” the other Steve says. His voice is soft, but his eyes are cold, glaring. “He can’t help regressing now.”

_Sweetheart._

Bucky drops the clothes on the floor.

Maybe Pierce would have fucked him up that way too, if he could be bothered to put forth the effort. And then Bucky would be that weak and vulnerable, and everybody would be laughing at him. Coulson would have thrown him in some institution. A nice one, just so Steve would stick around with SHIELD.

“Bucky?” Steve asks.

Bucky runs out of the apartment. He makes it all the way to the street before he pukes.

*

“It’s not your fault,” the other Steve says.

Bucky sniffles, wiping at his eyes. He’s wearing the other Bucky’s too-big clothes and sitting on Daddy’s lap. He can’t stop crying.

“It’s really not your fault, Bucky.” The other Steve sounds nice, almost as nice as Daddy. “Bucky— _My_ Bucky does this sort of thing when he’s upset. He either gets angry, or he gets away. You didn’t scare him off.”

“I’m sorry,” Daddy says. “I should have explained earlier, I just—”

“There wasn’t time,” says the other Steve. “You were only here for a few minutes before, well—”

Before Bucky got sick all over. And messed everything up, like always.

He wipes at his eyes again. He misses Bucky Bear. They didn’t take Bucky Bear to the park because the news said it might rain later, and Bucky Bear hates getting wet. But now Bucky’s here and his bears are all back at home and lonely, and he’ll probably never see them again.

Maybe it’s better that way. The bears still have Tasha, and Bucky Bear would probably like the other Bucky better, because the other Bucky’s not a worthless crybaby.

But the other Bucky made Daddy mad. Bucky Bear wouldn’t like that.

“Hey,” says the other Steve. He kneels down in front of Bucky. He’s smiling, but it looks strained. He must think Bucky’s such a freak. “Here. Are you hungry? You’ve had a long day.”

“I—” His tummy still feels all knotted. What if he eats and he gets sick again? “I dunno.”

“My Bucky really like pancakes,” the other Steve says. “I can make you some pancakes, if you want?”

“Can they have chocolate chips?” Bucky whispers.

The other Steve’s smile doesn’t look so strained now. “Sure.”

The whole apartment smells like pancakes when the other Bucky comes back. He won’t look at anybody, and he stomps into his room and slams the door.

“What kind of syrup would you like?” asks the other Steve. “We have maple and blueberry. Or there’s honey, if you like that.”

Honey. Bucky Bear probably needs honey back home, and Bucky’s not there to give it to him. Bucky’s wiping at his eyes again.

“Buck?” Daddy says. He hugs on tight to Bucky. “What’s wrong?”

“I miss Bucky Bear.” His voice is all shaky and babyish and he hates it.

“Coulson has a Bucky Bear,” the other Steve says, almost to himself. “He collects anything that has to do with the Commandos.”

“You’re not breaking into Langley to steal a goddamn bear,” the other Bucky shouts from his bedroom.

Bucky flinches.

“It’s okay,” Daddy soothes, rocking him a little. “We’ll find a way to get in touch with Thor. I promise. We’ll be home soon.”

“We can find you a bear if you need one while you’re here,” the other Steve says. He’s stacking pancakes onto plates. “We can find a toy store. And then you could have a new bear to bring home, to tell Bucky Bear all about your adventures?”

Bucky can’t talk. The other Steve’s being so nice, but what if Bucky Bear doesn’t trust some weird bear from another world? What if they fight?

The other Bucky comes storming out of his bedroom, stopping right in front of the couch where Daddy and Bucky are sitting. He shoves his hands out roughly, but his voice is soft. “You wanna hold onto this for a while?”

There’s a little stuffed toy in the other Bucky’s hands. An otter, Bucky thinks. The otter’s lying on its back, with a little green leaf between its paw and a red, heart-shaped tag dangling from its ear.

Bucky reaches out to pick up the otter. It feels like it’s full of plastic beads. He gives it an experimental hug.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

The other Bucky just shrugs.

But he sits at the table while they eat pancakes, even if he doesn’t say much. And later, when the other Steve says they can watch a movie while he tries to call Tony so Tony can get a hold of Thor, the other Bucky lets Bucky pick.

And then he watches _The Little Mermaid_ with them.


	2. Snegurochka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Buckys discuss the past.

“What was your favorite thing about Russia?” Bucky asks.

He wishes he hadn’t said it.

The other Bucky stares at him, eyes glassy and confused. The kid’s huddled up on the couch, a blanket over him and a towel by his head in case he pukes again.

As it turns out, the other Steve’s been pumping a whole pharmacy’s worth of drugs into the kid, and keeping up with his medication regime slipped their minds until the other Bucky went into withdrawal and got sick again.

Not on Bucky’s clothes, at least. Steve got the doppelgangers some new outfits this morning.

It’s all very convenient, forgetting about the drugs. Like the other Steve would really neglect something so major without realizing his mistake right afterward. There’s no way he forgot. He just thought that Steve and Bucky would be disgusted with him for drugging the kid into compliance, so he held his tongue and expected a super soldier to be able to handle the withdrawal symptoms.

He was right about one thing: Bucky had been disgusted. And pissed, enough to yell so much that his head still aches now, hours later.

Bucky doesn’t remember anything he shouted. He’d been too angry to hear himself. He just remembers the kid crying.

And now both Steves are gone, off to the Home to get the other Bucky’s prescriptions. They didn’t bring the kid along because he’s apparently prone to car-sickness even when he isn’t in withdrawal, and also he might have seizures. _Seizures._ What the fuck have they done to him?

Steve said he had to take his doppelganger along with him. Like the other Steve couldn’t write the prescriptions down. Bullshit. They’re talking about Bucky. Steve’s probably saying all kinds of crap to make it sound like Bucky doesn’t hate the other Steve’s guts. Fuck them both.

“Huh?” the kid asks. His voice is scratchy, but he’s still speaking in that quiet lisp that makes Bucky’s skin crawl.

“Nothing. Get some rest.” Why is he trying to comfort his doppelganger? Just being around him makes Bucky itch and grind his teeth, and it’s not like he’s comforting even when he isn’t repulsed.

“I don’t really remember Russia,” the other Bucky murmurs.

 _That’s probably for the best,_ Bucky thinks, even though it puts his hair on end again. There’s no way this kid could handle remembering what happened to Agnessa or Grisha or anyone else. And how furious would he be if he remembered that Andrushka didn’t listen and let him end up in Pierce’s hands?

“I kind of remember colors,” the other Bucky continues. His eyes look far off now. He speaks almost dreamily. “And...food and stuff. They had these pancakes with jam.”

“Blini,” Bucky supplies.

“Uh-huh. But that’s really it.”

Bucky should shut up. The more he talks, the more he could prod bad memories to the surface. But for once, the kid doesn’t sound on the verge of tears. “Do you know why they call you the Winter Soldier?”

“’Cause I sleep in ice?” The kid’s face goes cold, closed. “My last daddy...he used to call me his snowflake. Because of that.”

“He wasn’t your father,” Bucky snaps, fighting the urge to gag.

The other Bucky flinches.

Several long minutes pass in silence.

“There’s a story in Russia about Snegurochka,” Bucky says. He tries to make his voice gentle. “Do you know what that means?”

The other Bucky doesn’t answer. He’s still tense, mostly hidden under his blanket.

“It means Snow Maiden,” Bucky explains. “Snegurochka is the granddaughter of Ded Moroz, Grandfather Frost. On New Year’s, she helps him deliver presents to children.”

“Like Santa,” the kid whispers, almost inaudible.

“Right.” Bucky doesn’t tell him about the time Snegurochka kissed a shepherd. It would probably make him cry, and Bucky’s sick of hearing that. “And see, frost also protects Russia, remember? General Winter keeps out invaders. And I said I was General Winter’s helper like Snegurochka helped Ded Moroz. I was Winter’s Soldier.”

The other Bucky’s frowning, a crease between his brows. “Somebody told me about a Snow Maiden,” he says.

Fuck. He’s reminded the kid of Grisha, and now he’s going to cry all night.

“Mi—Mitya,” the other Bucky says. “His name was Mitya.”

“Mitya?”

“He would play in the snow and tell stories. Once he gave me flowers.”

Bucky feels his heart squeeze in his chest. There’s so much difference between their worlds. What if the other Bucky never met Bucky’s team?

“Did you know a Grisha?” he asks. Grisha died of old age. The memory shouldn’t hurt the kid as badly as Agnessa would.

“Grisha?” The other Bucky’s brows come together again.

“Just...think.” He forces his voice to stay steady. “Grisha. Did you know him?”

The kid’s quiet, chewing at his lip, for maybe thirty seconds. He shakes his head. “I can’t remember.”

“Where did the Russians keep you in the forties?” His voice comes out rougher than he intended, and the other Bucky tenses again, but it’s too late to stop himself now.

“I didn’t wake up until 1952.”

Bucky’s breath comes out slow and shaking.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he says roughly. “Now get some sleep.”

The other Bucky shuts his eyes.

Bucky keeps his wide open, staring up at the ceiling. The kid never met his friends. He didn’t get them killed. Agnessa could be alive somewhere, a world away. But even if Bucky could find her, she wouldn’t know him.

He scrubs his sleeve against his dry face, and goes to sit on the fire escape until Steve comes home.


	3. Care and Keeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve disagrees with himself about how to care for Bucky.

The other Steve’s turning out to be nearly as fragile as his Bucky.

“—needs the medicine,” the other Steve’s insisting. He’s not crying, but the tremor in his voice suggests that he might break into tears at any second. “I don’t _like_ drugging him, we’re not trying to keep him more docile or manageable or any of that! But without them, he can’t function!”

“You don’t need to justify it,” Sam says. Steve brought him along to drive because Steve’s hands are still shaking at the memory of the things Bucky yelled at the other Steve. _No better than HYDRA, you just want him nice and compliant and helpless._ “Trust me, Steve. We’ve seen things at the Home. And the VA. Meds do a lot of good. And in a lot of cases, they’re necessary.”

“He was having seizures,” the other Steve says, like he didn’t hear. “He was hallucinating before he went on the medicine. He tried to cut his arm off.”

“But the arm detaches,” Steve says before he can stop himself. _Idiot._ The other Bucky must have tried to cut his flesh arm off, and now Steve sounds like an insensitive ass.

But the other Steve stares at him. His eyes are shining, but he looks confused. Distracted from his self-loathing. At least there’s that. “No, it doesn’t. It’s grafted into his bones and muscles. It can’t come off without surgery.”

Well, enough’s different between their worlds that it shouldn’t come as a surprise that the arms are designed differently too. “My Bucky’s comes off,” he mutters. Then, because it only seems fair with how dismayed and self-blaming the other Steve is, he adds, “I told him to take it off once, after he broke his leg, and I gave him a panic attack.”

The other Steve frowns. “Why did you want him to take it off?”

“He attacked the medic who was trying to set his leg,” Steve says. His stomach clenches remembering Tompkins, and the way that Bucky had belittled him when Tompkins was the one injured. _If you don’t stop squealing, I’ll dropkick you out the cargo hatch._

Shit. What if he’s doing that at home right now? What if he took the Beanie Baby away from the other Bucky to try and force him to grow up? Steve never should have left them alone together. He should have left the other Steve at the apartment and brought Bucky with him. And what if Coulson’s at the Home and catches a glimpse of the other Steve? What if he sends someone to their apartment? The other Bucky can’t handle a CIA interrogation. And if Skye showed up, would Bucky be able to turn her away?

Steve swallows hard, forcing himself to take a breath. What happened with Tompkins was so long ago. Bucky’s not like that anymore; he’s gentle with the Deathloks and the other patients at the Home. Anyway, the other Bucky’s probably asleep. And the other Steve can stay hidden in the van while they get the medications.

He takes another breath and speaks without thinking. “Then I said I’d hold him down if he tried to fight the doctors, and he slammed me in the head with his arm. Gave me a concussion.”

“You did _what_?” The other Steve doesn’t look teary-eyed now. He’s appalled. “How could you say that to him?”

“I didn’t—”

“That’s like telling him you’re going to torture him!”

“I didn’t think!” Steve doesn’t mean to shout. “It was right after a mission and he’d just attacked somebody, and I wanted to make sure he wouldn’t hurt anybody else! He was calling the doctors expendable! What was I supposed to say?”

“You’re supposed to protect him!” the other Steve fires back.

“So I should let him beat the shit out of everyone, is that it?”

“Stop it,” Sam says calmly, his eyes focused straight ahead.

They both fall silent. In the corner of his eye, Steve can see his doppelganger’s shoulders draw up, head drooping, like a scolded dog. He wonders if he’s done the same thing.

“The road looks different when you’re riding shotgun than it does from where I’m sitting,” Sam continues. “But you don’t tell someone how to drive when you’re not the one behind the wheel, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” says the other Steve.

“Me too.”

“I shouldn’t have compared your Bucky to mine they’re completely different I’m so sorry.”

Steve tries not to cringe. What must the other Steve think of his Bucky, between all the yelling and storming off and what Steve just described? He must think Steve’s done a godawful job of helping Bucky, and the other Steve doesn’t even know about all the shit that SHIELD did to Bucky. Or to the HYDRA captives.

If he knew all that, he’d probably decide that he and his Bucky are better off on the street than they are with Steve.

“Steve,” Sam says. “Come out of your head, man.”

“Sorry.” Rubbing at his temples, Steve turns his head to fully face the doppelganger in the row of seats behind him. “Bucky—I don’t think he meant the things he said, when he screamed at you. He was just caught off guard and—and I think he has bad experiences with being drugged.”

He doesn’t know for sure. What would the other Steve think if he knew how little Steve actually knows about Bucky’s time with HYDRA?

The other Steve nods before his face tenses with worry. “He won’t try to talk Bucky off of taking his medications, will he?”

“No,” Steve says quickly. “He knows that your Bucky’s different. And your Bucky will probably sleep the whole time we’re gone anyway, right? Because he’s feeling so bad?”

That doesn’t calm the other Steve down at all. In fact, it seems to send him into a panic. “Fuck,” he says. “ _Fuck._ ”

“Steve?” Sam asks. “What’s wrong? Talk to us.”

“Bucky—I didn’t think to mention it before because he couldn’t sleep last night—he was too wound up—my Bucky—” The other Steve’s face goes red. “He has a bedwetting problem. Because of the abuse, the PTSD—he’s so ashamed of it and we don’t have anything here—”

Well, shit. As gentle as Bucky’s trying to be with the kid, Steve’s not sure he could hide a shocked, disgusted reaction to that with no forewarning.

“I’ll text Bucky so he can keep the kid awake,” Steve says, pulling out his phone. “We’ll stop by a pharmacy on the way back. Sam, can you—”

“Got it,” Sam says, pressing down on the gas pedal. “I’ll speed.”


	4. You're Not Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve learns about this world's SHIELD.

“Why is it called Tony Stark’s Home for Brainwashed Agents?” Steve asks.

He ought to shut up. He’s already offended the other Steve by shouting at him about how he cares for his Bucky. As if Steve has any room to talk. And Sam is going at least twice the speed limit because Steve neglected to tell them about Bucky’s problem with sleep before they left; he doesn’t need distractions.

But if _Steve_ doesn’t have distractions, all he’s going to do is imagine Bucky back at the apartment, sick and miserable and probably crying. Or his brain might just conjure up images of HYDRA agents breaking in and stealing Bucky away. He has to talk.

“It’s not really called that,” Sam answers, eyes on the road.

“That’s just what we called it before there was an official name,” the other Steve adds. “And then it stuck.”

“But where do the brainwashed agents come from?” Steve really should have asked earlier. But earlier Bucky was puking from withdrawal, and the other Bucky was shouting loud enough to make the walls rattle.

 _You want to control him like HYDRA did,_ he’d screamed. _You must love how bad they fucked him up._

“It’s HYDRA, isn’t it?” Steve asks, stomach sinking. “Bucky wasn’t the only one they messed up?”

Christ. What if Bucky wasn’t the only one that Pierce used to play out his sick fantasies with either? Steve has to press a hand against his mouth, working not to gag. The worst part isn’t even thinking about how many others Pierce might have manipulated.

The worst part is knowing how crushed Bucky wouldn’t be if it turned out he wasn’t Daddy’s special little snowflake.

“Some of them were brainwashed by HYDRA,” the other Steve says. “It’s not the same thing they did to Bucky, with the memory wipes. It was a different thing that they called the Faustus method.”

“Murphy,” Steve manages. “Murphy was brainwashed, wasn’t he?”

“No,” his doppelganger says, but his eyes had been meeting Steve’s in the rearview mirror, and now he’s looking away. “Not by HYDRA.”

“What?” Fuck. There’s something worse than HYDRA here, something that managed to infiltrate them the way they infiltrated the world? What if it’s in his world too?

The other Steve sighs. “We need to talk about SHIELD.”

“SHIELD? SHIELD’s gone.” Isn’t it?

“It might be in your world. I hope it is. But here, SHIELD started up again right after Insight. With Coulson at the helm instead of Fury.”

“Coulson?” Steve repeats. That agent who gave up his life trying to stop Loki? Who wanted Steve to sign his trading cards? “He’s dead. I paid for his funeral.” It had seemed like the least he could do.

The other Steve rubs at his temples. “He was supposed to be dead here too. Fury used all kinds of secret SHIELD tech to revive him. He made him the new head of SHIELD and one day he just showed up at my doorstep. ‘Hello, Captain Rogers. I’m still alive. We need your help to save the world.’”

Stunned, Steve leans back in his seat. What if Coulson’s alive back home? Why hasn’t he told them?

“And I—” The other Steve takes a shuddering breath. “God help me, I said yes. I joined back up, just like that, after everything I said about SHIELD going along with HYDRA, I just—”

“Steve,” Sam says. “You couldn’t have known.”

“I don’t understand.” There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of Steve’s stomach. He gets the sense that he won’t want to know once he does manage to make sense of this. “What’s that got to do with the brainwashing? Coulson wouldn’t—”

“SHIELD started detaining HYDRA agents and holding them without trial.” The other Steve turns to face him. He looks sick, the way Steve imagines that he looks himself when he’s explaining to someone about Bucky’s condition. “Turns out they weren’t doing well in windowless, solitary cells, so Coulson started wiping their memories and setting them up with new lives.”

Steve feels suddenly, horribly carsick.

“I didn’t know about the mind wipes, I swear.” The other Steve is rambling now, looking away. “I would never have been a part of that, and neither would Bucky, and the second we found out—”

“ _Bucky?_ ” Steve croaks. Bucky was a part of SHIELD? Going on missions for a man who was erasing memories, just like HYDRA had made him do?

“SHIELD found him before I did.” The doppelganger’s voice cracks. Steve thinks he might be crying. “They...they told me they were debriefing him. I thought it would be nice. Nat said that her debriefing was the first time she felt safe. But Coulson just interrogated Bucky, kept him from sleeping for days. And I never knew. When Bucky got out, he said he wanted to go on missions. I think he thought that was the only way they’d ever let him go, was if he was useful. I think he thought I knew what Coulson did. Or at least he thought I couldn’t stop Coulson. I—I failed him. I was supposed to take care of him and I never even knew.”

The other Steve looks back. His eyes are red-rimmed, and he seems expectant. Waiting for Steve to yell at him again, to tell him how badly he failed his Bucky.

And there is anger swirling around with the disgust in Steve’s gut now. Part of him wants to shout, to ask how he could be so blind. But it’s not like Steve can claim the high ground. Bucky ended up on trial back home because Steve was too stupid to bring him in away from people. His darkest secrets were spilled in open court because Steve fucked up.

“You—you got him out,” Steve says. It’s all he can think to say.

There’s a stretch of silence.

“Murphy was one of the HYDRA agents Coulson mind-wiped,” Sam says. “So was Rumlow. They’re at the Home too.”

God. Coulson mind-wiped _Murphy._ HYDRA or not, Steve can’t help but think of that as on par with kicking a puppy.

“What if SHIELD’s still around in my world?” The words sound hollow. Steve feels numb. “What if they’re doing this too?”

“SHIELD’s gone now,” the other Steve says. “Coulson joined the CIA. Most of his team ditched him when they found out about the mind-wiping. But we can tell you everything—the kind of tech they used, their bases, all of it. If they’re in your world, you can stop them.” He sounds eager now, grateful for a way to help.

“Later though,” Sam says. He makes an abrupt turn into a parking lot.

“Can you stay in the van?” the doppelganger asks.

It makes sense. No need to try and explain travel between dimensions to the staff while they’re getting the prescriptions filled. “Sure.”

“And...” The other Steve is pale. “Could you maybe lie down in the backseat with your jacket over your face?”

“What?”

“Coulson comes here sometimes,” Sam begins. “If he sees you, he’ll be very interested in—”

“He’s allowed _in here_?”

“We’ll explain everything, I promise.” The other Steve’s almost pleading. “But we don’t want him to come after you or your Bucky, all right? Just lie down for now.”

Because there’s nothing suspicious about someone lying in the back of Sam’s van with a jacket over his face. Steve sighs. He wouldn’t have thought he could find a world worse than his own.


	5. Shoelaces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's doppelganger needs help with his shoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely osprey_archer's ficlet, as originally published on Tumblr.

“Put on your shoes and we’ll go get some ice cream,” Bucky says. He’s not crazy about going outside with the kid, but it’s better than staying in here.

The kid is sitting on the floor by the sofa. He glances up at Bucky through the screen of his hair, then ducks his head again. “I can’t.”

“Not allowed to spoil your supper?” Bucky tries not to sound as sarcastic as he feels.

“No. I just…” The kid looks so pathetic that Bucky knows he should feel sorry for him, but mostly he just wants to kick him.

“Not allowed to eat junk food?” Bucky guesses. “How about sandwiches? We could get sandwiches. Or there’s a diner around the corner that does breakfast all day.”

The other Bucky actually perks up. “Pancakes?”

“Amazing pancakes. C’mon, get your shoes on.”

The kid actually shuffles over to the door and sticks his feet in his shoes (sneakers; of course he doesn’t have proper combat boots). But then he shuffles over toward Bucky, laces dragging on the carpet. “Can you…” the other Bucky begins, his voice trailing off into nothingness when he glances at Bucky’s reddening face.

The kid's making fun of him. He's got to know Bucky can't tie his shoes anymore than he can - they've got the same fucking metal arm - and he still wants Bucky to get down on his knees and try to tie his shoes, and make a mess of it and break the laces and look like an idiot, just so the kid can laugh at him - 

“I’m sorry…” the other Bucky starts.

“You’re a grown-up goddamn man!” Bucky roars. “If you can’t tie your own goddamn shoes, you ought to hide that fucking fact, not go around asking everyone for help!”

A ghastly second of silence follows. Bucky ought to apologize. He knows he ought to apologize. He would never talk to any of the DeathLoks that way - 

“I’m sorry.” The kid’s getting snot on his face again. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m – ”

“Apologies are nothing but blood in the water,” Bucky snaps. “Now go wash your face. I’m ordering sandwiches in.”


	6. Orphanage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky tries to explain himself in the form of a cautionary tale.

Bucky sniffs again.

He’s trying not to, _really_ trying, but he can’t help it. He needs to be good. The other Bucky’s still mad at him. When he came back from the door with the sandwiches, Bucky was still wiping at his eyes, and the other Bucky looked like he wanted to yell again.

But he didn’t. He just gave Bucky a sandwich and then sat down on the floor.

He got a lot of sandwiches. Bucky can’t eat that many, but he doesn’t say so. He hasn’t said anything since the other Bucky told him to stop apologizing except “Thank you” after he put the sandwiches on the coffee table.

Bucky looks out the window. There are pigeons on the rail of the fire escape.

The other Bucky clears his throat.

Bucky sneaks a glance at him. The other Bucky looks pained. Or maybe tired. He was probably having fun not spending time with Bucky before the other Steve called.

“You can’t sleep,” the other Bucky had said, shaking Bucky fully awake after the phone rang. He hadn’t said why. He didn’t have to. He looked disgusted, and that meant Daddy told.

No wonder the other Bucky hates him. He’s such a baby.

“There was a pigeon coop at the orphanage,” the other Bucky says.

“Orphanage?” Bucky asks. He tenses up after. He shouldn’t interrupt.

“Where Steve and I grew up.”

“We weren’t in an orphanage,” Bucky says. He doesn’t remember much of the past, but Daddy would have told him that. Daddy’s talked about Bucky’s mom and dad before. He has pictures of them.

The other Bucky looks annoyed. “Do you want to hear the story or not?”

“I’m sorr—” Bucky bites on his tongue, looking away. He nods.

“There probably wasn’t a single orphanage during the Depression that was _nice_ ,” the other Bucky continues. “But the director of this one was a real son of a bitch. If there was a kid scrubbing the floors while he was walking, he’d step on their hands before he’d walk around ‘em. Miserly bastard, too. We didn’t have any heat, no electricity.”

Bucky wants to ask if that’s where the other Bucky met his Steve, but the words die in his throat. It has to be. At least Daddy said that the life Bucky can’t really remember from before he was HYDRA’s was nice. This Bucky’s life sounds horrible. And his Steve must have been _so sick._

“We used to sneak up on the roof to see the stars, me and Steve. The wardens at this place were just as bad as the director, and we’d catch hell whenever they caught us. But it’s not like they needed an excuse to lay into you—we got beat whether we followed the rules or not, so why follow ‘em?”

“How long were you there?” Bucky tenses. He’s interrupted again. But he can’t help asking. Somebody nice had to have adopted them. They _had_ to. Daddy would have _died_ in that place.

The other Bucky smiles like this is a nice memory. “’Til we were old enough to work. Gave us a beating to remember ‘em by when we left. We were bigger then, but it’s not like it matters when you’re that outnumbered.”

Bucky’s eyes sting. He looks back at the pigeons.

“Anyway, on the nights it rained, we’d go up in the old pigeon coop instead. Steve would cough from all the crap and feathers, but beyond that, it was nice. Once, we hid up there for like a week.”

There’s a car horn a few blocks away. The pigeons scatter.

“Why?”

“Because I broke the director’s Tiffany lamp.” The other Bucky sounds proud of himself.

“On purpose?”

“Picked it up and smashed it against the wall. Lightbulb exploded and everything. There were sparks everywhere. Closest I’d ever seen to fireworks.”

Bucky sets his sandwich down, tummy aching. He can’t imagine doing something so bad to his last daddy. And on purpose. “Why?”

“’Cause he threw Steve out the window. I had to wait until Steve’s leg healed, of course. Otherwise, who was gonna carry him around?”

He’s going to cry again. Bucky tilts his head forward so his hair will cover his face. He couldn’t look out for Daddy like that. He’s too much of a coward. Daddy would have died.

“The director caught me, of course. He beat me bloody and threatened to skin me alive if he saw me again. So we hid in the pigeon coop. Steve had the easier time of it, being so scrawny. He was the one who had to sneak out and get food, because I was too stiff to move after a couple days.” The other Bucky pauses. “Plus, I was getting infections. Open wounds and bird shit don’t mix.”

Bucky feels tears running down his cheeks. He bites his lip to stay silent.

“On Steve’s third food run, they caught ‘im outside the kitchens,” the other Bucky says. “They knew he was hiding me and they wanted to know where. Brought him up to the director himself, who had a switch that had to be about as thick as Steve’s forearms.”

Bucky’s breath catches. The other Bucky doesn’t seem to notice, still talking.

“He could either talk, or get twenty lashes. Of course he wouldn’t talk, the idiot. Even septic, I’d be better off after a beating than he would.”

His nose is running, and Bucky hides his face against his shoulder to stop it.

“After fifteen of the lashes, Steve did something he never did before or after that.”

The other Bucky pauses. Maybe he thinks Bucky’s going to ask what. Maybe it hurts to remember. All Bucky can see is Daddy, so small and hurt. All he can think of is how scared and useless he’d be. He’s trying not to shake.

“He cried,” the other Bucky says. “Bawled. And the director was like a shark. Crying was blood in the water for him. So he said that if Steve wanted to be so weak, they’d have to toughen him up. And he got forty lashes instead. He couldn’t walk for—”

Bucky’s sobbing. He shoves his hands against his face until it feels like the metal fingers are going to crush his skull, but he can’t shut up. He bolts up, knocking his sandwich to the floor, and runs blindly.

He ends up in the other Bucky’s bedroom, cowering under the bed. What if that’s how things really were for them before the war? What if Daddy lied just to make Bucky feel better, and he has to deal with all those awful memories all alone?

“Kid?” It’s the other Bucky. Bucky can see his feet in the doorway.

He can’t answer. All he can do is cry.

“The pigeons are back,” the other Bucky says. “Don’t you want to see them?”

Bucky wants to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Reciprocity!Bucky is so happy about getting to tell an orphanage story again that he doesn't realize APSHDS!Bucky's questions are asked in horror rather than enthusiasm.
> 
> Bucky's mention of Steve being thrown out of a window comes from osprey_archer's fic [_Boundaries._](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2454527) The pigeon coop and the Tiffany lamp incident are both from [_Taylor Swift._](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3346733)


	7. Comedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is not amused.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

The doppelganger Steve is shouting loud enough that Sam can hear the glass vibrate in the window panes. It’ll be a miracle if the neighbors don’t call the cops.

He doesn’t listen to Bucky’s answer, kneeling on the floor. The doppelganger Bucky is still under the bed, wide-eyed and shaking. And crying.

His sobbing was the first thing they heard when they got back to the apartment. Sam had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach from the very beginning of this expedition, sure that no good could come of leaving the Buckys alone. They should have kept both of the doppelgangers at the apartment. Sam could have watched them instead of driving. It would have been good for Bucky to have some time away from the counterparts that he clearly isn’t comfortable with.

Steve had probably wanted time alone with the other Steve to explain his Bucky. Still, Sam could have stayed with the Buckys and prevented this.

Although if he hadn’t been in the van with the Steves, they’d have spent the whole time berating each other.

All right, so there was no truly good way to handle this arrangement. Sam still maintains that they chose the worst method.

“Hey, Bucky,” he says gently. He should have shut the door. Not that it matters with the doppelganger Steve shouting so loud. “It’s okay, you’re not in trouble. Why don’t you come on out? It doesn’t look very comfortable down there.”

The doppelganger just sniffles. He’s gone from sobbing to crying silently, and Sam can’t tell if that’s an improvement.

“Do you want a glass of water?” he offers. “It might help you feel a little better.”

“He’s in trouble,” the doppelganger whispers.

“What?”

“Your Bucky.” He wipes his face with his sleeve. “Daddy’s mad at him and it’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, Bucky. He’s the one who lied.”

The doppelganger Bucky was barely coherent when his Steve rushed to his side, soothing and worrying, asking what was wrong. The kid had managed to get out a garbled explanation about orphanages and torture, and Sam had felt his blood run cold.

The doppelganger Steve had been livid enough when he thought Bucky was terrorizing the kid with real traumatic experiences. Then Steve, trying to settle Bucky’s doppelganger, had explained that the stories were fake, and that’s when the other Steve hit the roof.

“You think this is funny?” the doppelganger’s screaming. “Does it make you feel better about yourself to scare him?”

“It’s hilarious,” Bucky shoots back, and Sam winces.

The doppelganger Steve doesn’t realize he’s only making Bucky more defensive. Angry as he is now, he’ll probably take that flippant remark seriously and decide that Bucky’s a sociopath, just like Coulson did.

“I don’t know what I did to make him so mad,” the kid says. He’d been inching his way out from under the bed, but he’s stopped now, trembling. “He doesn’t like me.”

“He wasn’t trying to trick you, Bucky.” It’s hard enough to explain Bucky’s logic to adults, let alone a severely traumatized man with the mindset of a little kid. “Bucky...he’s scared to show too much of himself.” God, he hopes Bucky can’t hear this over the other Steve’s screaming. He’d pitch a fit. “He doesn’t like to let anyone know how he’s feeling, because he’s worried that somebody could use that against him. Does that make sense?”

The other Bucky nods. His mouth works as though he’s going to reply, but nothing comes out.

“Okay.” Good, because there’s no way Sam is going to horrify the kid with worries about the apartment being potentially bugged. “When he talks about the orphanage? I think that’s his way of expressing his feelings how he thinks is safe. Whatever he told you—he didn’t mean to hurt you, Bucky. He probably thought he was giving you advice in the best way he knew. Or he might have been so caught up in his own feelings that he didn’t realize it might upset you.”

“They’re fighting because of me,” Bucky whispers. “Because I can’t be like the other Bucky. All I do is cry and worry. If I could be a grown-up, the other Bucky wouldn’t have had to tell me anything.”

“None of this is your fault,” Sam says firmly. “We shouldn’t have left you two alone. We knew how abrasive Bucky can be. This has been really hard for you, and we haven’t taken that into account like we should. Come on out now.”

The doppelganger Bucky eases out from under the bed. He’s still shaking. Belatedly, Sam wonders if that’s all nerves or if part of it is withdrawal. The doppelganger never actually got around to taking the meds they’d retrieved for him, given that things went to hell within a minute of their arrival back to the apartment.

“Take a deep breath for me, all right?” Sam asks. “Now, is it okay if I leave for just a second and come back with some water and your medici—”

The door flies open. The kid’s cold metal hand clamps onto Sam’s arm as they both stare at the doppelganger Steve, fuming in the doorway and shouting down the hall.

“—leaving!” he yells. “I’d rather find my own way home than spend another minute here with a sadist who thinks he’s funny for terrorizing people!”

“Good fucking riddance!” Bucky shouts.

The doppelganger Steve makes a strangled sound, like he was about to retort and thought better of it. He turns to look into the room, face softening immediately. “Hey, Buck,” he says. “It’s okay, we’re not staying here. How about we get your stuff and find some place nicer, okay?”

Sam expects the doppelganger Bucky to cry. Break into a fit of apologies. But he just nods, scrambling to his feet, and grabbing the small pile of clothes neatly folded by the foot of the bed. Probably he thinks Steve and Bucky will be happier without him around.

“Wait,” Sam says, hauling himself up.

But the doppelgangers are already out of the bedroom, and Sam can hear the other Steve shouting down the hall. “Get away from the door or we’ll break your window!”

“Don’t—” Steve pleads as Sam races after them.

The door is wide open by the time he gets there. They didn’t wait.

Sam catches them on the street, lungs burning. They didn’t run, but it’s hard as hell to keep pace with a pissed off super soldier, even when he’s not at full speed.

“Steve,” he says. “Hold up.”

“I’m not going back there,” the doppelganger insists, fire in his eyes. “This is hard enough on Bucky without—”

“You don’t have to go back there! But you can’t just storm off ! It’s not safe for either of you.” If the kid can’t handle Bucky, Coulson would kill him. No question. “For all we know, the government could know that you’re here! Coulson could know you’re here! You want to spend the night fighting off agents?”

The doppelganger Bucky looks confused, staring at his Steve.

“Coulson has no reason to bother us,” the other Steve says, but he’s faltering. “All we want is to get home.”

“He won’t believe you. He’ll think you’re some kind of trick, and he’ll interrogate you for weeks!” The kid looks horrified at that, but Sam can’t stop. He has to stress the danger they’ll be opening themselves up to. “For all you know, he might decide to mind-wipe you like he did Rumlow and Murphy and then make you into his pet soldiers!”

“The Commander?” The doppelganger Bucky goes white. “Somebody mind-wiped the Commander?”

“Listen,” Sam pleads. “Just stay the night with me, okay? I promise in the morning we’ll get you to Tony. We’ll get you home. But just come to my place for the night. We—we can get pizza. Or watch movies. Anything you want.”

There’s a pause. Both Sam and the kid just stare at the other Steve. Sam’s mouth is dry, heart pounding.

“Okay,” the doppelganger says. “I—sure. Thank you.”

“No problem,” Sam says, relief washing over him. “Come on, I’ll drive you there. Pizza’s good?”

“I want a bear,” the kid whispers.

“I can do that.”


	8. Bears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky goes bear-shopping.

Bucky’s alone in the stuffed animal aisle.

Daddy checked it before he let Bucky look, to make sure there weren’t any bunnies lurking on the shelves. Bucky thinks it’s weird that there aren’t any stuffed bunnies in a toy store. Maybe Daddy hid the bunnies under other animals or put them in a different aisle.

Now Daddy’s standing at the store front, talking to Sam. Bucky’s kind of glad he can’t hear them; his head still hurts from the yelling last night, and Sam’s talking to Daddy about the other Bucky and Steve. They’re meeting them this morning to figure out where Daddy and Bucky are going to stay until they can get home. Apparently, Sam’s apartment isn’t safe enough. They’re meeting at the mall so that Bucky can get a bear and also so that they can talk in a “neutral location.” So no more yelling.

There are a lot of teddy bears. Bears with ribbons around their necks and bears with sweaters. Brown bears and black bears and tie-dyed bears. Fuzzy bears and fabric bears. There aren’t any bears with red noses, but Bucky Bear wouldn’t want a bear around that he thought was trying to impersonate him anyway.

Bucky wishes Daddy and Sam were done talking. There’s too many bears to choose from. He needs help narrowing it down.

He closes his eyes and inches around a little, like maybe when he looks again, he’ll be in front of the perfect bear. When Bucky opens his eyes, there’s a plaid bear staring back at him. The bear is made of fabric, all beige and red and a little bit of white and a blue so dark it’s almost black.

Bucky’s never seen a plaid bear before.

He isn’t sure how to feel about a plaid bear. And the plaid bear doesn’t look like he knows how to feel about Bucky either. There’s a dark blue square covering up half of his mouth, and that makes it look like he’s frowning. If he’s already sad, there’s no way Bucky’s going to be able to cheer him up.

The bear to the plaid bear’s right is fuzzy and a nice purple color. She reminds Bucky of Hawkbear. He reaches out to shake the purple bear’s paw, but it squeaks when he squeezes, and Bucky jumps back.

“That doesn’t seem like the best toy for a kid,” says someone on Bucky’s left. He jumps again. “Wouldn’t that keep them up if they cuddled it at—whoa, I didn’t mean to scare you!”

There’s a woman in her twenties standing next to him. She has long dark hair and a leather jacket, and she’s looking at Bucky the way his doctors look at him when they’re worried he’s going to have a panic attack.

“Sorry,” she says. “I thought you heard me walk up.”

“It’s ‘kay,” he mutters, staring down at his shoes.

“You like stuffed animals?” the woman asks.

“I like bears.”

“Bears are great,” she says. “I have a friend who collects them. I’m looking for one for her, but it’s hard to pick one out when she has so many, you know? I’m Daisy.”

“I—I’m James.” Nobody knows about the other Bucky in this world. Bucky can’t mess that up for him.

“Nice to meet you, James,” Daisy says, and she holds out her left hand, which is weird.

“I—” Bucky has a glove over his prosthetic hand, but that won’t stop Daisy from feeling the metal. “I have a—a cold, sorry. You probably don’t want to touch me.” His face burns; he’s an awful liar, and he’s sure Daisy can see it.

“Oh, that sucks,” Daisy says, lowering her hand. “I hope you’re feeling better soon! Hey, there’s a place that makes these awesome smoothies just next door—maybe I could get you an orange one? Vitamin C and all. Might make you feel better.”

Bucky feels dizzy. Daisy’s talking a hundred miles an hour, and she seems to _like_ him, which doesn’t make any sense at all. Why does she want to get him a smoothie when they just met? “That’s—you don’t have to. I mean, that’s really nice, but—”

“I freaked you out when you’re not feeling well,” Daisy says. “It’s the least I can do. Besides, we could talk about bears! Since you like them so much, you probably have a lot of good ideas on how to pick one out that my friend will love.”

“I—” But he doesn’t have any way to pay her back. The money in Daddy’s wallet isn’t the same kind of money that they use in this world; the other Steve and Sam have had to buy all their stuff. And wouldn’t it make more sense to talk about bears in the toy store? And he’s not supposed to talk to strangers, but he’s already talked to her, and maybe they’re not still strangers now that he knows her name, and—

“Leave him alone, Skye.”

The other Bucky’s at the end of the aisle. He looks really angry, which makes Bucky flinch. The other Steve shows up behind him and so do Daddy and Sam. Bucky hadn’t heard them join in Daddy’s conversation with Sam. They must have arrived while Bucky was talking to Daisy. Except the other Bucky called her Skye. Is her name Daisy Skye, or was she lying?

“You won’t talk to me anymore,” Daisy-Skye says. “Now I’m not allowed to make friendly conversation with a different Bucky?”

“There’s nothing friendly about an interrogation,” the other Steve snaps.

“What am I supposed to do, let two lookalikes run around without investigating why they’re here?” Daisy-Skye demands. “They could be HYDRA plants! Did you ever even think about that before you let them into your home?”

“I’m not HYDRA,” Bucky whispers. He has no idea what’s going on, but he has to say that. He’s _not_ HYDRA. Not anymore. His doctors make him practice saying that all the time.

“You should be thanking me for looking after your safety!” Daisy-Skye continues. Bucky doesn’t think she heard him.

“How did you even know we’d be here?” The other Bucky doesn’t just look mad. He looks hurt. “Coulson bugged Sam’s apartment too?”

Coulson. The man Sam talked about last night, the one who mind-wiped the Commander. Bucky goes cold. He needs to get _away_ from Daisy-Skye if she’s helping to take away people’s memories, but the other Bucky and Steve look so angry and he can’t make himself walk to them. He starts to shuffle back, but right as he does there’s a voice behind him. Somebody else is coming into the aisle.

“We’ve been aware of their presence since shortly after their arrival,” the person says. Bucky whirls around, and there’s a middle-aged man in a suit there. “It’s not necessary to listen in on phone conversations when we never lost sight of them.”

“Doesn’t mean you didn’t,” the other Bucky spits.

“I’m trying to keep everyone safe,” the man says. “That includes you, Agent Barnes, even if you’re not willing to see it. If these men are plants, and you take them to the Home or Stark Tower, imagine the damage they could do. Have you found anything to corroborate their claims?”

“We can handle it without you,” the other Steve says.

“They’re worthless to you anyway,” the other Bucky adds. “They’re useless. Stay away from them.”

“You’ll forgive me if I’m not convinced.” The man stops by Daisy-Skye’s side. He’s right next to the plaid bear, and now the bear looks extra sad. “I’m not willing to compromise national security on the word of two lookalikes who appeared in highly suspicious circumstances.”

“We’re not trying to hurt anyone,” Daddy says. He looks pale and almost sick, staring at the man almost the way he stared when he first found Bucky. “All we want is to go home. Coulson, please.”

 _Coulson._ Bucky feels like he’s back in cryostasis.

“Then come with us,” Coulson says. His voice is softer now. “If you have nothing to hide, you have no reason not to cooperate. And if you’re telling the truth, the CIA will have the best resources at its disposal to send you back where you belong.”

“Bullshit!” The other Steve is almost shouting. “You’ll torture them just like you did—”

The other Bucky shoves him. Then he turns to look at Daddy like Coulson isn’t even there. “You can’t trust him,” he says flatly. “Whatever you think of us, he’s worse. He’ll lock your Bucky up and use him as a pawn to get you to be his pet super soldier.”

“Your baseless accusations won’t—” Coulson begins, but then Bucky interrupts by stepping between them.

“You’re Coulson?” he asks. His voice is shaky.

Coulson looks at him for the first time. “Agent Coulson of the CIA, yes.”

“And you ran SHIELD?”

“For a time after Director Fury’s resignation. He left the job to me.”

“He had no right,” the other Steve snaps. “SHIELD was supposed to be gone.”

“And leave the world defenseless?” Coulson asks. “Captain Rogers, how would that have helped anyone?”

“You mind-wiped Commander Rumlow,” Bucky says. His voice is barely louder than a whisper. He feels like he might throw up.

Coulson looks back at him. He looks annoyed, like Bucky’s being loud or whiny or something else bad. “I gave Rumlow and the other HYDRA traitors a second chance at life,” he says. “A chance to atone for their crimes. Would it have been more humane to leave them to rot in—”

Bucky doesn’t plan to punch Coulson in the face. It’s just that suddenly his hand is moving and then Coulson’s crashing into the shelf. It doesn’t fall over, so it must be bolted to the floor. There’s a lot of blood coming out of Coulson’s nose, and Daisy-Skye rushes to his side.

“You’re mean,” Bucky says. Hitting is _wrong_ and he thinks he might start crying, so he has to distract himself. He wipes his glove off on his jeans before he grabs the plaid bear from the shelf, hugging it to his chest. “I found the bear I want,” he adds, looking at Daddy. He marches toward the cash register without looking back at Coulson. “Let’s go.”


	9. Just Listen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky tries to stress the gravity of the situation.

“You little idiot,” Bucky hisses, barely suppressing the urge to drive his own fist into the kid’s face. “You don’t antagonize Coulson!”

The little brat doesn’t even look at him, frowning down at his stupid teddy bear. Probably the bear’s upset that Bucky’s angry. Bucky’s going to rip the damn thing’s head off.

“He hurt the Commander,” the kid mumbles.

Bucky can’t keep himself from wincing. Bad enough that his counterpart’s singlehandedly moved himself from ‘suspicious and untrustworthy’ to ‘definitely on the shit list’ in Coulson’s mind. Referring to Rumlow by his former title must have cemented the other Bucky’s role as a secret HYDRA operative as far as Coulson cares.

“He’s not even your Crossbones,” Bucky snaps. “Why do you give a shit?”

The kid finally looks up from the bear, though his fingers are running over the thing’s embroidered little nose like it’s a worry doll. He stares blankly.

Maybe that’s not what Rumlow calls himself in the other world. “Listen to me,” Bucky says. _Something_ has to penetrate the kid’s thick skull, right? “If you piss Coulson off, he’ll lock you up so deep you’ll never see the sun.”

For a second, the other Bucky’s eyes are wide and fearful and Bucky thinks _finally_. But then he shakes his head. “No, he won’t. You won’t let him.”

 _Don’t bet on it_. Bucky’s patience snaps, and he’s grabbing his counterpart’s shoulders, shoving him up against one of the pillars in the mall’s parking garage. “This isn’t a game!”

“Let him go.” A hand clamps down on Bucky’s shoulder. It’s Steve. His Steve. If it was the other one, Bucky would knock his teeth out. “Coulson won’t get them, Buck. It’s not like we’re going to go back to the apartment and just wait. We’ll make sure they’re out of his reach until we can get them home.”

Right. Because they have the resources to fight off the whole CIA. Because Coulson won’t spill the beans about the Home to the public if they don’t hand over the doppelgangers.

But if Steve’s being this stupid, there’s no way he’ll get through to the kid. Bucky scowls, releasing him. The kid’s eyes are wet, but at least he keeps his mouth shut.

“Where are we going to go?” The other Steve is pale, drawing his Bucky close. Pathetic. The kid clearly still has _some_ fight left in him, even under all the drugs. What he did to Coulson proves it. He could be doing something valuable, getting on the government and the public’s good side by fighting for them. And instead he spends his time hanging out with teddy bears just because he’s more manageable with the fire snuffed out.

Bucky could kill the other Steve.

“Back to the Home,” Steve says. “Tony’s there now, so that’s the safest place for you.”

Great. Now they can be stuck away from the apartment for potentially weeks, babysitting. At least he’ll get to see the Deathloks. And Joyce. And Simmons, except she’ll probably yell at them for being mean to Coulson.

“But you said Coulson was allowed in there,” the other Steve protests. His fingers are white on his Bucky’s shoulder.

“Coulson can’t go anywhere inside without escorts,” Sam says. “And there are areas he can’t access under any circumstances. If the Tony Stark in your world is anything like ours, you know his security’s top of the line. Trust us, man. It’s the safest place in the world right now.”

Bucky holds in a scoff.

“We’ll run by my apartment and grab your meds and all,” Sam continues, unlocking the van. “Steve, you and Bucky can get anything you’ll need, and then we’ll swing by to get you. Unless you want to drive separate?”

There’s no way Bucky’s leaving these two idiots alone with Sam. Who knows what sort of stupidity they’ll get up to without another super soldier to keep them in check? He shakes his head.

Anyway, if he needs to get out of the Home at any point, he can just take one of Tony’s cars. Like Tony would try to stop him.

“All right,” Sam says. “Then I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

He opens the side door. The other Steve lets go of his Bucky’s shoulder, taking his hand to guide him in. But the other Bucky doesn’t move. He’s not looking at his bear or at his Steve.

He’s staring at Bucky.

“I’m sor—” He bites his lip, cutting himself off. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“I’m not sad,” Bucky snaps. “I’m just telling you not to be an idiot.”

“Buck,” Steve says.

“I won’t hit anyone else,” the kid says. His gaze drops down to the floor.

Great. So he’s resolving to be even more worthless now that he’s made the worst enemy possible. His eyes flicker up briefly, and Bucky’s scowl only deepens. What does he want, approval? Does he want Bucky to encourage him for being a sitting duck?

“Just get your stuff.” His voice comes out gruff and tight, and the other Bucky flinches. He holds in a sigh. “We shouldn’t be talking here, all right? The sooner we get to the Home, the better off everyone will be.”

The other Bucky nods, letting himself be steered into the van this time.

“Do you own a seam ripper?” Bucky asks Steve, watching the van back out.

Steve turns to stare at him. “What? Why?”

“We need to check that bear. Might be bugged.” Skye was in the toy store, after all. And Coulson’s probably paranoid enough to bug every single teddy in there.

“ _Bucky,_ ” Steve says. “Do you want the kid to scream?”

“If Coulson’s listening?” Bucky shrugs. “Sure. At least it’d give him a headache.”


	10. Imitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Bucky’s kicking the back of his seat.

It’s not the other Bucky, either. Steve couldn’t blame the kid for acting out after all they’ve been through in the past few days. For a mentally five, abused child, the other Bucky’s remarkably well-behaved. He even tries to cry quietly.

No, it’s his own Bucky. And it’s because Steve wouldn’t force the kid out of the backseat.

When Sam pulled up outside their apartment in his van, the other Bucky had scrambled out of the middle row of seats to make room for them. He’d looked tense and frightened enough before Bucky had barked at him to move, and there might have been sobbing if Steve hadn’t told Bucky to quit being an ass and let the kid stay there.

Now Bucky’s in the back too, to make sure he’ll have the opportunity to get the kid in a chokehold should the kid try anything. And he’s not happy about it.

This is going to be the longest drive of Steve’s life.

“What do you think you’ll call your new bear?” Sam asks, glancing in the rearview mirror. He’s the only one who’s attempted conversation since they got on the Interstate.

In the corner of his eye, Steve can see the kid hold out the plaid bear, scrutinizing. “I dunno.” His voice is faint enough that Steve wonders if Sam can hear it. “Maybe...Nikita? Or Boris.”

The kicking at the back of Steve’s seat stops.

 _Shit._ Steve had thought he knew the names of all of Bucky’s Russian team, but what if he’s wrong? He can’t imagine how much Bucky’s mood will darken if he has to hear the name of one of his dead friends over and over for possibly weeks.

“Did you know people with those names?” the other Steve asks, looking back.

“I don’t remember.”

“It’s not a Russian bear,” Bucky says sharply. “It’s _plaid._ That’s Scottish.”

That gets the kid frowning down at his bear. He draws it closer to his chest, rubbing his metal fingers against its nose. “But he sounds Russian.”

Given that the bear has no voice outside of the kid’s head, that’s not something they can argue with. But with the way Bucky’s scowling, it’s clear that he’ll try anyway. “Those names don’t work. Your other bears have names like Iron Bear and Captain Ameribear, don’t they? Do you want this bear to feel weird and left out?”

To Bucky’s credit, he at least keeps his voice gentle when he asks. It sounds as though he’s speaking out of concern for the bear rather than annoyance. The other Steve looks surprised, and something close to a smile tugs at his mouth, even though the other Bucky’s staring at his bear with renewed worry. Maybe he’s decided that Bucky isn’t such a sadist after all.

That’s when the kid speaks up again. “He says he doesn’t care.”

“Maybe not _now._ ” Bucky counters. “But—”

“He says he doesn’t give a shit.”

That actually renders Bucky momentarily speechless.

There’s a flush to the kid’s face. He looks uncomfortable, but he ploughs ahead anyway, like the bear is really dictating to him. “It’s his name and he doesn’t need to fit into some dumb team anyway, and if anybody wants to give him crap about it, then they’re just stupid.”

Steve can’t tear his eyes away from the backseats, but he can _feel_ Sam staring into the rearview mirror at them. Is this how the other Bucky always acts with his toys? He hadn’t said anything like that when Bucky let him hold the Beanie Baby.

“Buck,” the other Steve begins. “We don’t have to pick a name for your bear right now, okay? He probably needs some time to settle in—”

“He doesn’t need to settle in.” The kid ducks his head down as if he can hide behind the bear and make it seem like that’s the thing doing the talking. “Once we get to this place, everybody’s just going to give me shit for having a dumb toy, so he doesn’t care if he fits in. He says we’re going to be locked up until Tony can find a way to get rid of us anyway.”

Bucky. The bear sounds exactly like Bucky. It’s such an uncanny impression that Steve has to bite back a laugh. Is that how the kid’s Bucky Bear at home talks? Does he just project his adulthood and unpleasant thoughts onto his toys?

Then Steve looks at his own Bucky, and the laugh dies in his throat. Bucky’s mouth is thin, his face red. He’s picked up on the resemblance too. And he’s not happy about it.

“You think you’re funny?” Bucky demands.

Steve reaches back, putting his hand on Bucky’s arm. “Buck—”

“He’s making fun of me!”

“He’s not!” the other Steve insists. “He’s just—”

“You made fun of me,” the kid whispers. He doesn’t raise his head, but he lowers the bear. “With the lie about the orphanage.”

That only makes Bucky’s scowl fiercer. “That was _funny_ ,” he snaps, defensive. “You’re just being stupid now.”

“My bear says not as stupid as you.” The kid’s shoulders draw up, his voice apologetic. “He says only stupid people would let me sit in the back, where I could do anything.”

“Is that a threat?” Bucky would probably have his hands on the kid’s throat if not for the way that Steve’s tangled himself around one.

“He says you’re not worth the effort,” the kid reports. “Your Steve won’t let you hurt him. And anyway, he’d win.”

It looks like Bucky’s going to tear the bear’s head off then and there. His body visibly shudders trying to contain himself. “Fuck you.”

“He says he’s better at that too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The names that APSHDS!Bucky offers for the bears are names from his own past, and not names that, to my knowledge, hold a particular significance to Reciprocity!Bucky. He just doesn't like the constant reminder of Russia.


	11. Accomodations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group reaches Tony Stark's Home for Brainwashed Agents without any bloodshed.

“Wonderful,” this world’s Tony says dryly. “As if dealing with one pair of super soldiers wasn’t enough trouble.”

He’s complaining for the sake of complaining and Steve knows it, but that doesn’t stop Bucky’s head from drooping as he hides his face against the new bear. If this were his Tony or if Bucky were an adult right now, he’d be able to shrug it off. But Bucky’s been so stressed and miserable in the past few days that Steve’s not sure if he’ll ever return to his adult mindset before they’re back home.

“Sorry.” Bucky’s words are muffled by the bear. Steve puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Tony’s jaw doesn’t quite drop, and the other Bucky scowls fiercely.

The little plaid bear seems like he’s scowling too.

“It’s fine,” Tony says quickly, recovering. “It’s not every day I get to deal with parallel universes, so that has its perks. What am I like in your bizarro world, anyway? Am I missing the goatee? Worshipped as a god? King of my own nation?”

“Tony,” the other Steve says. “How about you show them to their room before we play twenty questions?”

“ _Some_ people have no sense of scientific inquiry.” Tony rolls his eyes, but he does push his chair back and stand up, gesturing for them to follow.

“You’re pretty much exactly like the Tony I know,” Steve says. In other circumstances, he might find that irritating. Right now he only hopes that the familiarity helps Bucky to feel better. Hopefully, this world’s Steve explained the situation to Tony. If Tony doesn’t know about Bucky and reacts negatively—or even just with confusion—that might push Bucky into a complete breakdown.

But Tony isn’t picking at this clearly different new Bucky, which Steve takes as a sign that he must know something’s up. That, or this world’s Tony is just more tactful.

“You can walk around in the yard,” Tony says, “but don’t do it without me or Pepper. Or, uh, one of your mirror selves, I guess. I have a live-in chef, so you won’t have to go anywhere for meals. It’s best if you don’t wander the rest of the grounds—the patients might freak if they see two of you, and you don’t want to wander into the TAHITI wing by mistake—”

“Tahiti?” Bucky mutters, raising his head. “Like the island?”

The look Tony gives him is hard for Steve to place. It’s not annoyed or repulsed or anything negative, but there’s a hesitance there that Steve rarely sees in his own Tony. Like he realizes Bucky is all but made of glass, and he doesn’t want to be the one to break him.

Which is probably why he ends up stumbling over his words, likely forcing down some quip he was going to make. “Not quite. They’re the former HYDRA prisoners that Coulson mindwiped. Called the procedure TAHITI. It stood for something, but it also just made the whole thing sound nicer, I guess.”

“The Commander’s here?” Bucky’s eyes light up, and Steve pretends it doesn’t kill him to see his best friend so elated about one of his former captors. It’s the first time he’s looked happy since the damn orphanage lie.

Steve tries to look at the bear’s frowning mouth instead.

“Uh,” Tony begins.

“Rumlow’s here,” the other Steve says softly. “So’s Murphy. I think those are the only two either of you would have run across.”

“Is he happy?” Bucky asks. “How did you make him happy?”

“I don’t really know him,” Tony says, suddenly fiddling with his tablet. “Here! I’ve got a map of the grounds, if you want a look. So you’ll know if you’ve wandered too far or where to meet up in case of emergencies—not that emergencies are likely. I mean, you’ve got Iron Man with you, what could go wrong?”

Steve leans in with Bucky to look at the tablet, but he can still sense that the other Bucky’s rolling his eyes.

He holds his tongue until Tony’s ushering them into a guest bedroom, though. “When are we getting rid of them?”

“Bucky!” the other Steve scolds.

“What? That’s the whole reason we brought them here, so they could get back home.” The other Bucky crosses his arms, frowning. “You can’t say they’ve been enjoying themselves, Steve. Have you made contact with Thor yet or not?” He looks at Tony, expectant.

“I’m trying,” Tony says. “Contacting the prince of Asgard isn’t as easy as sending a text, you know?”

“It’s stupid,” the other Bucky says. “I’ve read all the mythology. That Heimdall guy’s supposed to see everything, and he hasn’t told Thor there’s two of us? Fat lot of good their alien tech does them.”

“He might be busy watching something in Asgard,” Sam points out.

The other Bucky doesn’t argue, though his scowl deepens.

“You could use a break,” Steve says. “Now that we’re here, there’s no need for you to have to supervise us. I’m sure Jarvis will make sure we’re okay.”

Just when he thought this world’s Bucky couldn’t look any pissier. Great. The plaid bear will probably be paranoid about surveillance now too.

“We can just take some time to get settled,” Steve continues. “And you can get back to reaching out to Thor. Buck, which bed do you want?”

Bucky doesn’t answer.

“Bucky?”

Steve turns back to the doorway. There’s no sign of his Bucky or the new bear.

“I blame Wilson for losing him,” Tony says almost immediately.

“What?” Sam asks. “Why?”

“You were bringing up the rear!”

Steve feels his stomach sink. “How quickly could he get to the TAHITI wing?”


	12. Favoritism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky meets this world's Rumlow.

The Commander is sitting on a bench in the courtyard around the Tahiti building. A big golden retriever runs up to him, a Frisbee in its mouth. The dog wags its tail as the Commander takes the Frisbee. He pets behind the dog’s ears and says something Bucky can’t hear before he throws the Frisbee and the dog rushes after it.

The Commander at home doesn’t have a dog. Maybe that would make him happy. He could take the dog on walks and spend time outside instead of drinking and taking a lot of pills like he does now. Bucky could get one for him and bring food whenever he visited so the Commander wouldn’t need to buy any.

The plaid bear says that would probably piss Rumlow off, being treated like a charity case. Bucky frowns. There has to be some way to help him afford a dog that won’t make the Commander mad.

This Commander is sort of smiling, eyes scanning the yard as his dog runs back to him. But then he sees Bucky, and he’s not smiling anymore.

“Uh,” Bucky says. The Commander looks pale except his face is still all scarred, so parts of it are really white and parts are still red. He looks _scared_. “Sor—” Then Bucky remembers how mad apologizing makes the other Bucky. He doesn’t want to make the Commander mad too. “Hi.”

“What do you want?” the Commander demands. He’s not happy at all now.

“I—” He should go. He should never have come here. “I like your dog,” Bucky blurts out. The dog makes the Commander smile.

“Stay away from Lucy.” Now the dog—Lucy—isn’t happy either. She’s staring at Bucky and her hackles are up. She reminds Bucky of guard dogs that he had to fight sometimes when he was the Soldier. He doesn’t want to fight Lucy. That would make the Commander so upset.

“I’m sorry!” The plaid bear doesn’t like that Bucky’s apologizing, but he can’t help it.

“Where’s Rogers?” The Commander grabs onto Lucy’s collar, maneuvering her behind him. “Why are you here?”

“They’re—he’s with Tony.” This isn’t going right at _all._ This Commander hates Bucky. Or maybe he’s fine with this world’s Bucky, but he can tell that Bucky’s different and wrong and that makes him sick. Bucky wants to run, but his feet feel rooted to the ground. “I wanted to see you.”

“You want to steal my dog? Is that what your stupid bear’s for?”

“No!” Bucky tries not to hear all of the rude words that the plaid bear’s shouting at the Commander. “I wouldn’t do that!”

“Then what?” Lucy’s barking now. “It’s got nails in it? Glass? You wanna kill her?”

“I wouldn’t!” Bucky shouts. His eyes sting with tears. “I wouldn’t do that! You’re my favorite commander!”

The Commander just stares at him. He laughs, but it doesn’t sound like he thinks anything’s funny. It sounds like it hurts. “Your favorite. You threw me down the stairs and broke my arm, and I’m your _favorite._ Sure. What did you do with all the guys you didn’t like, murder them?”

“I didn’t!” He’s really tearing up now, and he can’t even wipe at his eyes because both of his hands are clenched around the bear and he’s too upset to make himself let go. Why would the other Bucky do something like that? “I wasn’t allowed to kill anybody that wasn’t a target! I’d have been in so much trouble!”

“Bullshit.” Rumlow stands up slowly. He’s stiff all over, and Bucky isn’t sure if that’s from the burns or from how upset he is. “Like Pierce ever punished you for anything. He fucking loved you no matter what sociopathic shit you pulled.”

“That’s—that’s not—” It’s not _true._ It can’t be. Everybody says what his last daddy did was wrong wrong _wrong_. His doctors say that parents who really love their children don’t abuse them and withhold affection if they won’t do things that are painful or humiliating. Daddy says that if Bucky’s last daddy were still alive, then he’d slam his shield into Alex’s head until nothing was left. Even the plaid bear’s yelling that Rumlow’s an idiot. It’s not true, even if Bucky’s last daddy always said that he loved him and he was perfect and even if Bucky misses him now. “He didn’t—”

“I knew you were an idiot,” the other Bucky says. He emerges at another corner of the courtyard, scowling at the Commander. “But I thought even you’d have the brains to realize that’s not me.”

The Commander looks very sick now. His scars are so red and the rest of him is so white, like a candy cane. The hand that he doesn’t have on Lucy’s collar is shaking. “What,” he says, and then it’s like he chokes. “What the fuck?”

“Asgardian portals through the multiverse.” The other Bucky sounds almost bored. “There’s two of me now until we can get Thor to get this one home again. Deal with it.”

Bucky doesn’t think the Commander believes that, but all the Commander says is, “So your first order of business was to get him to fuck with me.”

The other Bucky snorts. “Why would I give a shit? You’re not that important.”

“Rumlow!” The other Steve runs up behind the other Bucky. He sounds out of breath. Bucky stares past them until he goes cross-eyed, but he can’t see Daddy anywhere. Maybe they were worried that Daddy would make the Commander upset too. He wouldn’t. Bucky’s the one who always makes things worse.

“And you’re in on it too.” Now the Commander’s glaring at Steve. He’s mad at everybody, and it’s all Bucky’s fault.

“Rumlow,” the other Steve repeats. “It’s not like that. There’s another Steve and Bucky and we only brought them here so Tony could help them get home. That’s all. We just lost track of this one and he wanted to see you.”

“Why would he want to see me? Just admit that this is your idea of a sick joke!”

“It’s not!” Bucky bursts into tears. The plaid bear’s mad at him now for being stupid and showing weakness, reminding him about when the other Steve cried in the orphanage, but Bucky can’t stop. “I wanted to see if you were happy! You’re my favorite commander and my commander back home is never happy and I wanted to see if I could help him! I didn’t mean to make you upset! You were always really nice to me and you took care of me and you were so good at your job and there were almost never problems on your missions and I just wanted to see you!”

The Commander stares at him, and the Commander’s eyes are _wet._ He’s quiet for what feels like forever. Then he says, “I’m leaving,” and just like that he’s turning around and almost running back inside, with Lucy right behind him.

He’s crying.

Bucky made the Commander _cry_.

“It’s not your fault, Bucky,” Steve tries to tell him, over and over, as they lead him back to Daddy. “What you said was nice. Rumlow’s just depressed. I think it makes him sad to remember all the things he can’t do anymore.”

Then what Bucky said wasn’t nice. It hurt the Commander. And no matter how angry the other Bucky and the plaid bear get, Bucky can’t stop crying.


	13. Grow Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky meets his counterpart's adult side.

“It’s not your fault,” Steve repeats. The kid only sniffles and shakes his head, like he’s too overcome with self-loathing to argue. “Rumlow’s just depressed.”

“Rumlow’s the worst,” Bucky counters. He should have punched the bastard right in his scarred up face the second Rumlow had the gall to say that Pierce loved the Soldier. Sure, the kid would still be crying, but he wouldn’t be hating himself for making Rumlow unhappy. Probably.

“Bucky!” Steve shoots him a look behind the kid’s back.

“He wanted to help kill millions of people, Steve! That shit doesn’t go away just because he’s sad now!” 

“I’m pretty sure part of the reason he’s depressed has to do with realizing that,” Steve says lowly.

“So what? We’re just going to shrug off all his crimes because you feel guilty he got mind-wiped?”

“This isn’t the time.” Steve’s glaring daggers and not even trying to do it out of the kid’s range of sight anymore. But it’s not like the kid’s looking; he’s just silent and staring straight ahead, breathing shakily. Bucky would expect him to be hugging that stupid bear for dear life, but it’s loose in his hands.

Great. Now he’s probably catatonic.

“Come on,” Steve says, softer now. He puts his hand on the kid’s shoulder to guide him. “Let’s get back to Tony’s, all right?”

They left the other Steve around the corner. Well, Steve did, because the doppelganger had tried to argue that he was absolutely coming along and Bucky had charged ahead. Who knew what shit Rumlow might say in the time they were bickering about it?

As soon as Rumlow gets done pouting, he’s going to think it’s hilarious that there’s a Bucky out there who worships the ground he walks on. The plates shift and grind in Bucky’s arm. Next time he sees Rumlow, he’s punching him in the face.

Once they round the corner, it’s obvious how Steve got his doppelganger to stay there. This is the part of the yard with Murphy’s garden, and Murphy must have come out after Bucky ran past. Or maybe he’d been on his knees pulling at the weeds around his tomato plants all along, and Bucky had missed him. Either way, Murphy’s talking a hundred miles a minute at the other Steve shifts, looking impatient and worried. Steve must have thrown Murphy at him, counting on the doppelganger being too polite to tell Murphy to shut up about early frosts or natural insect repellants or whatever.

“—soapy water also keeps aphids away,” Murphy’s saying. “But it can kill them too, so I don’t do that. It would be—”

“Bucky!” the other Steve cries out. He then immediately looks apologetic, although Murphy doesn’t seem to have noticed the interruption. The guy barely knew how conversations worked even before the solitary and mind-wiping.

“Hey,” the kid says. His voice is low, presumably from the earlier tears. But he’s stopped crying now, even though his face is still red. “Murphy?” he asks, raising his head.

If Murphy’s at all taken aback by seeing two Steves and Buckys in front of him, he doesn’t show it. “Hi,” he says. “So the aphids are under control now, and some of these tomatoes should be ready by the end of the week, and then they’re going to the kitchens and they can make sauces and gratins and soups and—”

“Are you okay?” the other Steve asks. Seeing his Bucky has done little to make him less frantic, probably because the kid’s obviously been crying. “Did Rumlow—”

“He didn’t do anything,” the kid insists. His voice is still weird. “I scared him by accident. It was my fault, Steve.”

 _Steve._ And that’s what’s different: the lisp is gone and the kid’s voice is much more resonant. More adult.

He’s not acting like a five year old now.

“Murphy,” the other Steve says. Murphy appears to have run out of foods containing tomatoes, because now he’s just standing there. “It was great to see you. I’m glad that you and your garden are doing well, but we need to get back to where we’re staying, all right?”

“You used to give me hummus,” the other Bucky says, staring at Murphy as if he’s just remembered. “On missions. It was really nice, thank you.”

Murphy smiles in a small, confused way, as if that sounds like the sort of thing he’d do but he can’t remember it. Or maybe he just can’t fathom anyone thanking him.

Bucky doesn’t dwell on it. He’s racking his brain trying to remember exactly how the other Steve introduced the regression. This is something the kid could just come out of? He wasn’t stuck in either the Soldier or the five year old mode?

Why the fuck didn’t he do that before, then? It can’t be something that only happens when he calms down; he was just in tears, beating himself up for Rumlow’s shitty mood. Did his brain just restart itself from stress? Maybe his body finally equaled out from the brief drug withdrawal.

“If you run off again,” Tony says to the other Bucky once they get back, “I’m putting a bell on you.”

“Sorry,” the other Bucky says. He doesn’t quite mumble it, but his voice is faint. That, combined with his still red eyes, makes Tony pull a quick grimace before he regains his composure.

“Hey, no harm no foul. You like cream puffs? Everybody likes cream puffs, right? Pepper has a pastry chef here today, no idea _why_ but I’m sure we can get her to make anything—”

Fuck him. He never offered to get Bucky any pastries just to cheer him up.

But then, that’s what it’s about, isn’t it? Bucky watches his counterpart blush and stammer that it’s not necessary while Tony talks over him. The other Bucky’s helpless. He acts so frail, he actually seems smaller. And gets him everything he wants.

Granted, he has no fucking ambition, but the method is flawless. _You magnificent son of a bitch._


	14. By Proxy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky decides to make the most of things.

_The teddy bear_ , Bucky thinks, scowling down at the plate of cream puffs, _should have been the first clue_.

Bucky’s the only one who hasn’t fallen all over himself trying to soothe his doppelganger. While Steve and Sam have been soft and quiet, Bucky’s called his counterpart out on punching Coulson and all the other stupid shit he’s pulled. And look when the bear showed up. The doppelgangers ran off because Bucky yelled at them, and when they came back, the other Bucky had a bear. A bear that he made act like Bucky.

It’s so obvious in hindsight that Bucky’s furious with himself for not seeing it sooner. The little brat couldn’t get Bucky to bend to his every whim, so the bear was a taunt. _I can make you a puppet too, if I want. Everybody does what I want them to do_.

Like hell. Bucky’s tempted to rip the bear out of the other Bucky’s hands and tear its head off. But that wouldn’t work. The bastard would just start sobbing and reinforce his act of being a helpless little angel, and everyone would get pissed at Bucky. He’d rather die than give his doppelganger that satisfaction.

No, Bucky can’t lose his temper and give the game away. He’s not going to let the other Bucky win. He just has to figure out a way to work this to his own advantage.

The other Bucky picks up one of the cream puffs. He hadn’t even had to ask for them. If Bucky were sulking or crying, nobody would offer him pastries. Steve would probably say he should buy them himself. Being cute and helpless gets the other Bucky whatever he wants. At the cost of his dignity, sure, but the satisfaction of playing all the Avengers for fools probably makes up for that.

The question is, what does he want? That’s the key to manipulating him back.

The teddy bear. The Beanie Baby. The cartoon they all watched. Pancakes and hugs and reassurances from everyone around him.

The other Bucky wants affection, and that makes bile rise in Bucky’s throat.

Okay, so he’s sadly lacking in ambition, which means Bucky can’t use him for anything really cool, like guilting Tony into making a pair of wings for Bucky. At least, not at first. But he still has uses. The other Bucky would be great at getting all the things Steve would tell Bucky to do or make for himself, like snacks or having other people entertain him when he’s bored. Bucky can work with that.

Some of the cream drips out of the pastry the other Bucky’s holding and lands on the plaid bear’s leg. The other Bucky wipes at it with a napkin, but only succeeds in spreading it. He stands up, looking worried, and heads for the kitchen.

Sloppy acting. Why would he care so much about a bear as an adult? But no one else even notices the slip. He’s got everyone trained, and Bucky has to admire his efficiency.

He stands up, following after. The other Bucky’s at the kitchen sink, wiping off his bear with a dishcloth.

“Hey,” Bucky says. “Is your bear okay?”

The other Bucky’s face reddens. “Yeah,” he says. He sounds hesitant, like he thinks Bucky’s going to laugh at him. “He’s fine.”

“Look, I didn’t mean to snap at you earlier,” Bucky says. “About the bear and all that.” It’s the closest he’ll come to making an apology, even a fake one. “It’s just...it’s been a mess, the past few days.”

The other Bucky nods. “I didn’t mean to make you mad,” he says. Now he looks hopeful. God, he has no ambition at all, does he? The slightest bit of affection and he’s sated.

“Don’t worry about it.” Bucky smiles. “You’ve got a Bucky Bear back home, right?”

The other Bucky smiles back. “Yeah. He was Steve’s, but then Steve gave him to me. And now I have all the Bearvengers. I mean, Avengers as bears. Tony made them.”

Tony never got Bucky any bears. Fuck Tony. “Cool,” Bucky says. “I bet they’re great.”

His counterpart just nods.

All right, so he’s won the other Bucky over. Now time to test his control. “Hey, you know what would be really good? Pancakes for dinner.”

“But Tony said we’re having lobster.”

“Pancakes are better than lobster,” Bucky counters. “And I bet your bear would like it. Besides, pancakes are easier and faster, so it’s better for everybody, right? I’m sure they’d agree if you asked.”

The other Bucky doesn’t look convinced. “Can’t you ask?”

Oh, that clever little _shit._ “I guess I could,” Bucky says, thinking fast. He sighs, as if it’ll be a huge inconvenience. “If you really can’t—”

“I can!” the other Bucky says quickly. Whether he’s afraid of blowing his cover or losing affection, Bucky isn’t sure. But either way, the other Bucky’s quickly heading back into the living room to ask about pancakes.

“But they’ve got plans already, Buck,” the other Steve says. “We don’t want to inconvenience anybody.”

“I know, I just...” The other Bucky’s free hand twists at the hem of his shirt. “Since we saw Murphy earlier, I keep thinking about what he used to say about lobsters, and how sad they are when they get boiled and...and my bear likes pancakes.”

“Well,” Tony says. “I don’t see why we couldn’t do pancakes and lobster. I don’t want Plaiddington Bear here getting hungry and mauling us all.”

“That’s not his name,” Bucky snaps, but the other Bucky’s smiling, laughing behind his hand, and so Bucky has to shut up. And stupid nicknames aside, he’s still getting pancakes. And a new best friend to get him all the small comforts he wants.


	15. Pancakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pancakes dredge up distant memories.

Pancakes again.

Bucky pokes his fork at the stack of pancakes on his plate. Last night they’d had pancakes and lobster. And pancakes again for breakfast. And now lunch. The plaid bear really, really likes pancakes. And the other Bucky smiles whenever they have them, so Bucky doesn’t want to complain. The other Bucky hardly ever seems happy.

But no matter how good the pancakes are, Bucky’s stomach is starting to feel as though it’s filled with syrup. There’s a book Steve reads to him when he’s small, about a little badger who’ll only eat bread and jam, and how sick of it she gets. _I know how a jam jar feels...full of jam_.

Jam doesn’t sound bad right now. It’s a different kind of sweet than the syrup, and after all the syrup he’s had in the past day, Bucky feels as though he can’t taste anything else. “Is there any jam?” he asks.

The other Bucky raises his head, which he never seems to do when he’s eating pancakes, and Bucky feels the plaid bear’s stuffing contract. Maybe jam is wrong on pancakes here, and everyone’s going to be angry again.

But the other Steve just says “Sure” as he pushes his chair back. He’s out of the room before Bucky can even ask for a certain kind of jam.

That’s when the other Bucky speaks. “You don’t put jam on pancakes like these,” he says, disapproving, and now the bear’s stuffing is really knotting up.

“I’m sorr—”

“You put jam on blini,” the other Bucky continues, and he turns his head to look at Steve. “You should make us blini.”

Steve looks surprised. The other Bucky’s barely spoken to him at all since the night when they fought about the orphanage. “But there’s still pancakes,” he says, looking at the platter heaped with them on the table. “We should finish those before—”

“Mitya and Pasha used to make bets on how much blini I could eat,” Bucky says, suddenly remembering. “Because I needed to eat so much more than everyone else at the base. Once they did it at the Director’s dacha and the General got so mad at them.”

He can almost see them before him, sitting at the worn wooden table in the base. Mitya laughing, marking the bets on a scrap of paper. The writing all crooked and sloppy because the scratches in the table made the surface too uneven. Pasha hiding a smile behind his hand like he always did. Bucky had forgotten the gesture until just now.

“Your first handler?” Steve asks softly. They’ve only talked about Mitya once or twice. Bucky hadn’t remembered much to say, and what he hadn’t forgotten would make Steve sad.

“Then Pasha died and we didn’t make bets anymore.” Bucky sees the smooth stone that marked Pasha’s grave where the plate of pancakes ought to be and shakes his head.

Steve swallows, grimacing like it hurts. He doesn’t like to hear about the Russians, not since the Natasha gave him the old files about how the Winter Soldier was made. But Mitya and Pasha came after that. At least, Bucky thinks they did. He wants to say as much, but he can feel the other Bucky’s eyes boring into him. The bear feels hot on his lap as if he’s angry at Bucky for bringing up Russia.

“I can make blini,” Steve says, and he’s out of the room almost as fast as his counterpart, though he spares a glance over his shoulder as he goes.

“He doesn’t need to be mad at them,” Bucky says. He has to say something.

The other Bucky isn’t eating anymore; just staring, his fork stilled on his plate. Maybe he’s angry at Steve for getting mad about Russia. Maybe he’s pissed at Bucky for bringing it up at all.

“They’re all dead anyway,” Bucky mutters.

The bear thinks it would be best if Bucky shut up, so he does, trying to finish the pancakes before the blini arrives.


	16. Compliance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky always sees what Steve can't.

“We need to talk about the other Bucky.”

Steve winces, rubbing at his arm. He’d come back with the jam to find his counterpart gone—“Making blini,” the other Bucky had explained—and before Steve could even begin to scold Bucky for making the doppelganger cook for him, Bucky’s hand had clamped down on his arm, almost yanking it out of the socket as he was dragged from the room.

“About how you’re using him for all manner of pancakes?” Steve asks. He should have seen it sooner. The second he can find a moment alone with the other Steve, he’ll have to warn him. And then the other Steve will be completely sure that Bucky’s a manipulative bastard. An abuser who needs to be kept at arm’s length.

“They’re drugging him into compliance,” Bucky insists.

Steve had been expecting a retort about how if the other Bucky was going to be stupid enough to go along with every suggestion, then he deserved to be used. He blinks. They’ve already been through this, the night that the other Bucky went into withdrawal. “You already knew he was taking medications, Buck.”

“He talked about Russia!” Bucky shakes his head, turning away. He starts to pace. “He just brought up his old team and said they were all dead like he was talking about the damn weather, Steve. Remembering that ought have put him on the floor in misery!”

“Is that what you used to do?” Steve asks. Did Bucky used to hide in his room on the Bus and cry into his pillows?

“I’m not pathetic!” Bucky snaps. “The kid cries over missing his toys, but not his dead friends?”

Steve doesn’t point out that the other Bucky might not have been friends with his Russians.

“Either he’s a sociopath or he’s drugged. They want to keep him like a little kid so there’s no threat from the Winter Soldier.” Bucky clenches his fists, metal arm whirring and shifting. “I bet Pierce didn’t even fuck him up like that. Or maybe he did, but they haven’t even tried to fix it.”

“Buck.” Steve almost puts a hand on his shoulder before thinking better of it. “The other Steve wouldn’t do that.”

“Why not? Now he has a Bucky who’s never going to risk his life on missions again! One who adores everything he does!” The venom is thick in Bucky’s voice, his eyes burning. “Or maybe he doesn’t know. He’s stupid, like you were with Coulson. He thinks it’s all for the best, that they all care about Bucky as much as he does.”

“Who’s they?”

“Tony!” Bucky rolls his eyes. “Because the kid killed his parents. Why wouldn’t he want that Bucky to be as useless as possible? Bet the bastard thinks it’s funny.”

“No one’s drugged you,” Steve points out. He regrets it immediately, bracing himself for more shouting about how Bucky’s not that weak, but Bucky only sighs.

“We didn’t live with Tony. We never even saw him right after he found out about his parents and was still pissed.”

“But the kid has therapists.” And the other Steve had made it sound like he was seeing them on a daily basis. “They wouldn’t drug someone into acting like a five year old. That’d violate the—”

“They would if they were hired to keep the Winter Soldier from hurting anyone.” Bucky takes a breath and holds it in. He’s tensed all over and Steve has to fight the urge to step back. Then his eyes light up and the words come out in an explosive gasp. “We have to go to their world!”

“What?”

“We need to let them know where all the SHIELD bases are anyway,” Bucky mutters. He’s tensing up again, either with excitement or determination. “Bet their Coulson isn’t dead either, he was just too smart to get a bunch of Avengers involved with his crap. We can go there and—and see what they’re doing to the other Bucky.”

Steve doesn’t know where to start. “An hour ago, you couldn’t wait for them to leave.”

Bucky whirls on him, glaring. “You sat there and believed all the shit Coulson told you for months! Now there’s another Bucky getting manipulated and you want to sit back and let it happen? Didn’t you learn anything?”

“We don’t even know if Thor can get them home, let alone send us with them!” Steve slumps against the wall. “Buck, can’t we get him to talk to a therapist here? If there are any concerns, the doctors can talk to the other Steve—”

“And that lasts until they’re back in their own world and Tony convinces him it’s for the best again,” Bucky counters.

“What do you want, for him to stay here?”

It’s obvious from Bucky’s scowl that he’d rather eat glass. “It took you forever to realize SHIELD was fucked up, and when you did you went crazy. You want the other Steve to figure that out alone? In a world where his Sam and Natasha and everyone else are in on it?”

“Bucky.” Steve’s suddenly exhausted. Of course Bucky chose to have this conversation in a room with no chairs. “We don’t even know if there’s anything for them to be in on.”

“Then we should find out.” Bucky sighs, running a hand through his hair. He looks away, and Steve wonders if he’s trying to hide worry. Wonders how much concern there is for his counterpart hidden under his disgust. “Or it could take his Steve as long as it took you.”

He doesn’t say it like an accusation, but that doesn’t lessen the sting. “All right. We’ll go.”


	17. Tag Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve tries to come up with an excuse.

“You want to come with us,” Steve repeats.

The other Bucky smiles, stabbing a fork into his blini and sending a blob of jam squirting across the plate. He looks happier than Steve’s ever seen. It’s unnerving. “That way you won’t have to find SHIELD on your own!” he explains. “We know where all of Coulson’s favorite hiding places are. It’d be much easier.”

“Assuming there _is_ a SHIELD in your world still.” The other Steve looks far less enthused about this. Clearly, it wasn’t his idea, but why would the other Bucky want to come home with them, even temporarily? He _hates_ them.

Hates Steve, at least. He’s seemed a little better with Bucky ever since they got to the Home. Maybe they bonded over a mutual love of pancakes and a dislike of their current circumstances.

“If you have a SHIELD, they can’t be nearly as far along as ours,” the other Bucky adds. He directs that ghastly grin at Bucky now. “If they were, they’d have snatched up Rumlow to wipe him already. So you can stop all that before it starts!”

Bucky pales. There’s a smear of jam at the corner of his mouth, and Steve resists the urge to wipe it away.

“The point,” the other Steve says hurriedly, “is that if your Coulson’s anything like ours, he’s a master manipulator. If you find him, and he is planning the sort of things he did here, he’ll use every trick he has to make it sound okay and brush off what we’ve told you. Having us there will make things harder for him to refute, and it’ll get this over with faster.”

Steve tries to swallow. His throat is too dry. They haven’t even been here a week and Bucky’s already had multiple panic attacks. He’d been doing so much better than that back at home lately. What if coming here has set his progress back by months? What would having these doppelgangers in his home do? The tower’s the one safe place Bucky’s known in decades.

“But—” he manages. “But you could be stuck there for weeks, it’s not like we have a foolproof way to contact Thor in our world either—”

“An Asgardian sent you here, right?” the other Steve asks. “Your Thor’s probably already there because of that. We could let him know to keep an eye on Earth so he could send us home as soon as we needed.”

Damn.

“Assuming time’s the same between worlds and years haven’t gone by in your New York.” The other Bucky’s sucking jam from his fingers, and Steve forces down the urge to throw a plate at him.

“Bucky!” the other Steve scolds.

“I’m just saying,” he protests, cheerful as ever.

Steve casts about for any reason to refuse them, coming up empty-handed. If he had more time, he’s sure a host of excuses would become clear, but as it is, his mind is blank. “We’re not even sure if Thor can send just us home,” he tries. It sounds weak even to him.

“Well, right.” The other Steve’s smile is at least understanding and doesn’t remind Steve of sharks. “This is all hypothetical for now. But if we _can_ help—things with SHIELD were horrible here, and they dragged out so long. If we can spare you any of that, we’d love the chance to do it.” He stares down at the table, fingers worrying at his sleeve cuffs. “Especially since things have been so rough for you here.”

“You could meet my bears.” It’s his own Bucky’s voice, faint and shy, and any half-formed reply Steve had been struggling to make dies on his lips.

Bucky’s looking at his doppelganger, stroking the plaid bear’s nose. He does that with Bucky Bear too, unconsciously, when he’s worried back home. Steve can imagine what it would mean to Bucky for this counterpart to like his bears. To be impressed by _anything_ he has or does.

So he doesn’t have the heart to protest any further after the other Bucky says “I would _love_ to meet your bears.”

Instead, Steve just stares at his blini and tries to force himself into having an appetite.

Of course that’s when Sam comes in to announce that Tony’s managed to contact Thor.


	18. Plans

When Steve and Bucky finally have a few minutes alone together – after greeting Thor, and explaining everything, and saying goodbye to everyone – Bucky drags Steve into a closet. Steve leans toward Bucky, like a flower toward the sun, but Bucky puts a hand on his chest and holds him firmly away. “We need to strategize.” 

Steve’s face droops. It’s kind of hilarious how disappointed he looks – clearly he thought he was finally going to get some – and Bucky almost wants to pin Steve to the wall right there to make it up to him. 

But he’s got to prioritize. “Jarvis will be watching everything we do in the other world,” Bucky points out. Steve’s still apt to forget about surveillance unless he’s reminded. “So we’ve got to finalize our plan now. It’s not like we can just walk in there and demand answers.” 

“Right,” Steve says. He looks even unhappier now.

“So we’ll have to make them _want_ to tell us,” Bucky says. “Like Natasha does. Put on that vulnerable act – that’s what they’ll expect from me anyway, because of their own Bucky. And I’ll act so fascinated and impressed by everything they’ve done to help him, getting therapists and medicine and everything, they’ll be falling all over themselves to tell me all about it. Tony won’t be able to resist an admiring audience.” 

“What do you think he’s going to say? ‘Here’s some pancakes and a bear, and also we’re drugging our Bucky into submission’?”

Bucky represses his annoyance. “No. They won’t be that obvious. But I bet it weighs on his mind now that he’s got to know Bucky better. Look at their Steve, he’s a seething mass of guilt, I bet he….” Bucky’s voice slows down. He’s just had an idea. “I bet he’s just dying for a shoulder to cry on.” 

“I don’t think he’s going to cry on your shoulder.” Steve sounds dry.

“He hates me,” Bucky says cheerfully. It’s fine. Bucky despises the other Steve too. “You’ll have to tackle him. Listen to everything he says and tell him it’s okay so he’ll keep telling you more. Give him absolution. Tell him, _Shhh, don’t feel bad. Of course you only did what you had to. You needed to drug him into puppethood. What else could you possibly do?_ ” 

Steve looks sick. He’s never been cut out for spy work. 

“It’s just words,” Bucky says. He tries not to sound impatient. “They’re meaningless.”

“They really aren’t,” Steve objects. 

“You got a better idea how to get a confession, then? Or do you want to sacrifice the other Bucky to your scruples?” 

Steve sighs. “They might really be doing their best by him,” he points out.

“Alexander Pierce,” Bucky shoots back, “thought he was doing his best by the world. That doesn’t make it fucking true.” 

Steve considers this. Then his shoulders square, and Bucky holds his breath. Steve’s either with him all the way or about the call the whole thing off. 

“Leave Steve to me,” Steve says, and Bucky smiles. 

“’Course,” Bucky says. He kisses Steve’s cheek. “You’re the only one who could ever talk yourself out of anything anyway.” 

***

They have to give a thousand explanations as soon as they get to the other Steve and Bucky’s world, of course. The Avengers want to know where Steve and Bucky have been, and where this second Steve and Bucky have come from, and why they’re here. They all recoil in horror when they hear about Coulson. After all, last they heard, he’d died a heroic death on the end of Loki’s spear, and now he’s alive and maybe mind-wiping people?

“Maybe Fury never brought him back in this world,” Steve says. He sounds apologetic. 

“Coulson told him to discontinue the resurrection program,” Bucky chimes in. “Which is why Fury wiped his mind after using it on him.” 

When she relayed the story to Bucky, Skye thought this was a sign of Fury’s high regard for Coulson. “He did it because Coulson was one of the Avengers,” she explained.

The Avengers here don’t look like they see it that way. They look like they want to be sick. Steve says, more apologetic still, “We just wanted to let you know what he did in our world so you can make sure it doesn’t happen here.”

“So we can protect the Commander,” the other Bucky says softly. 

Which is how they end up splitting up: the other Steve and Bucky and Natasha head out to check on Rumlow, while Tony takes Bucky and Steve on a tour of the Tower, and Bucky does his best to turn on the charm. The other Steve’s going to poison them all against him as soon as he gets the chance; he’s got to make a good impression now to counteract it. 

And it’s not hard to hang on to Tony’s every word like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever heard, not when Tony’s telling them all about the Tower, his own latest projects, Jarvis, things that a proper spy would kill to hear. “Jarvis is everywhere in the Tower except the bathrooms,” Tony says. “Pepper insisted. And if you ever need privacy, you can always tell him to go into privacy mode.” 

Right. Probably that triggers a code to set those files aside for special review. Bucky perches on the arm of a chair, solely because this puts him low enough to gaze up at Tony in fascination. He hopes he’s not laying it on too thick. 

“I’ve got some empty floors left,” Tony rattles on. “I’ll fix a couple of them up while you’re staying. Anything you want? Captain America posters? A special supersoldier gym? An old-timey soda fountain?” 

Bucky can actually hear Steve choke. “We don’t need our own floors,” Steve says. “A guest room – a couple of guest rooms – if Steve’s got a couple of guest rooms on his floor, that would be great.”

“Or just couple of couches,” Bucky puts in. “We shouldn’t be here too long. We can camp out on the main floor.”

He’s mostly thinking about how he can arrange to sleep close to Steve without tipping them off: Steve’s not going to sleep for beans if he’s stuck somewhere all alone in this new place. But Tony says, “It’s no trouble,” and his face has gone soft in the stupid soppy way they all get when they look at the kid, and Bucky can tell that Tony figures that the whole couch thing is just a symptom of Bucky’s tragic lack of self-worth. 

This works perfectly with Operation Vulnerable Sad Sack, but nonetheless Bucky resents it. He scowls down at his boots. He should’ve offered to sleep on the goddamn floor and really stacked up on the pity points. 

Tony’s chattering onward – does he ever fucking shut up? – discussing possible decoration schemes for their floors, while Steve tries to talk him down to just one floor, at least. Bucky swallows his pride. “Let him do what he wants,” he tells Steve, casting him a sideways look and then looking down at the floor again. He attempts to look downtrodden. “Whatever makes him happy.” That oughta melt Tony’s heart. 

It does. Tony’s falling all over himself telling them that he just wants them to feel comfortable and safe and blah blah blah blah. Christ. The other Bucky’s got these people eating out of the palm of his hand. 

Which doesn't mean they're not fucking with his brain. They've probably convinced themselves it's for the best. But still. At least they don't hate him.

“The Avengers are assembling for dinner,” Jarvis says. “Do you wish to join them?”

Tony looks at Steve and Bucky interrogatively. Steve and Bucky look at each other, and then Steve glances around, like he’s trying to figure out where to address Jarvis. “Are the other – are Steve and Bucky back?” 

“Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes have returned.”

The hair stands up on the back of Bucky’s neck. The last person who called him _Sergeant Barnes_ was Coulson. “Well then,” he says, his voice rough to hide his discomfiture. “Let’s go.”


	19. Operation Sad Sack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky puts his plan in action.

Bucky keeps up the sweet as pie act through dinner. He doesn’t rush the buffet the moment they’re in the room, but waits politely for his turn, although he’s got his eyes fixed on the food the whole time as if no one ever feeds him back home. It makes Steve feel defensive – he feeds Bucky _plenty_ – but maybe the rest of the Avengers figure it’s a leftover from Hydra, which is probably true anyway. 

He does pile up his plate when he goes through the buffet, but once he finishes that, he doesn’t make a move for seconds until Steve says, incredulous, “You had enough?” 

“Oh,” Bucky says. “Mmmm.” And he glances at Tony, like – Steve is amazed – like he’s _asking permission_. 

“Have thirds if you want!” Tony says. “We’ve got plenty of food. Pepper grew these tomatoes on our roof.” 

“That’s great,” Steve says. “Pepper’s got a rooftop garden on Stark Tower back home too.” 

“We call it Avengers Tower here,” Tony says. His eyes stray from Steve to follow Bucky, whose second plate is precariously heaped with food, and Steve can’t resist a glance at the other Steve. 

The other Steve is staring at Bucky like he’s grown a second set of ears. He knows Bucky well enough to know Bucky doesn’t ask for seconds, doesn’t ask for _anything_. He’ll lunge across the table to snag the last cookie if he wants it. 

He catches Steve looking and smiles at him. It looks sheepish.

“Avengers Tower,” Steve says. “Because you all live here?” He looks at the other Steve for confirmation, and the other Steve nods. “That’s great,” Steve says, and he tries to sound like he means it, but he feels hollow inside as he says it. In his own world, he cannot imagine Bucky and Tony, say, living in the same building without ripping each other’s heads off. 

Not that Bucky would willingly live under Jarvis anyway. He has threatened to take an ax to Jarvis’s servers at least once. 

Bucky returns to the table with his towering plate of food. The Avengers are trying not to stare, but only Natasha is really succeeding. “Did I take too much?” Bucky asks. 

There’s a hint of a snap in his voice – God only knows what he would do if Tony said yes – but of course Tony says, “No, no! Take as much as you want.”

“They’re just not used to seeing me eat that much,” the other Bucky says. He’s sitting a few seats down at the table, not eating at all, in fact, just drinking a smoothie – and not drinking that either at the moment. He’s holding the plaid bear on his lap and rubbing its nose. 

Bucky levers a massive forkful of mashed potatoes and meatloaf into his mouth, probably to avoid responding to that. When he’s finished chewing, he says, “You want us to show you were the SHIELD bases oughta be?” 

“Tomorrow,” Tony says, and there are a few glances at the other Bucky, confirming Steve’s suspicion that they don’t talk shop in front of him. “In the morning when we’re fresh.”

The rest of the dinner is taken up with quiet Avengers chitchat. They make an effort to include Steve and Bucky, which Steve appreciates and attempts to reciprocate – single-handedly, as Bucky answers everything briefly, with one word if he can. He used to talk like that back when he first started at SHIELD, and it sounded short and gruff at the time; now it only sounds shy. 

Bucky finishes his second plate of food and – after another go-round for permission from Tony – helps himself to a vast slice of cake and a handful of cookies. The other Bucky finishes his smoothie and sits, petting the plaid bear. 

There’s a pause in the conversation. Then the other Bucky says, “Do you want to see my bears?” The words burst out of him like he’s been trying to hold them back. 

“No,” Bucky says, and Steve kicks him under the table, because the other Bucky looks like he wants to die. Bucky gives Steve a deeply injured look and goes on, rubbing his leg, “I’m too tired to meet them all tonight. I want to do it properly.”

The horror fades from the other Bucky’s face. He begins to look hopeful again, although not hopeful enough that he ventures to say anything else. 

“We can have a floor ready for you any time,” Tony says eagerly. “I’m thinking a retrofuturism theme, like those Buck Rogers comics – ”

“Tony,” Pepper says. 

“Some weird flying machines, I’ve got an old biplane I’ve just been waiting for a chance to hang up somewhere – ”

“ _Tony_ ,” Pepper says, and Tony subsides. 

“It’s just one floor,” he says, bargaining. 

Pepper ignores him. “We have plenty of guest rooms,” she tells Steve and Bucky. “Would you like to stay on Steve’s floor?” 

Steve nods, and says, “Thank you,” and Bucky says, “I thought…”

He trails off. Steve thinks he’s laying this on too thick, but the Avengers seem to be buying it, because Pepper says encouragingly, “Yes?”

“I thought,” Bucky says, and he sounds shy, which would be adorable except that Steve is 99% sure that Bucky is faking it and thinking _Suckers_ as the Avengers lap it up. “Maybe you could read to us? Your Bucky says you’re good at that.”

The other Steve looks flattered and confused and concerned all at once. “I guess,” he says, uncertain, and then rallies. “Of course. What do you want?” 

Bucky immediately looks at the other Bucky, who looks shy for real, and has to rub the plaid bear’s nose for a while before he ventures a suggestion. “Maybe _Winnie the Pooh_?” he says, painfully hopeful. 

That’s how they end up in the other Steve’s room, crowded onto his bed – both Buckys and Steves and also Natasha, for some reason, who lies on her stomach with her feet kicked up in the air. Bucky plants himself beside Steve and nuzzles his head into Steve’s shoulder, which startles Steve so much that he nearly pushes him off. 

Bucky’s asleep by the end of the first chapter, but the other Steve keeps reading for three more. Maybe he’s hoping Bucky will wake up. 

But Bucky doesn’t, and the other Steve finally closes the book and murmurs, “You can stay here tonight.” 

Steve is appalled. “We can’t kick you out of your bed,” he says.

“It’s no trouble,” the other Steve says, and he actually sounds apologetic, like he’s done something rude by having his own bed in the first place. “Sleep tight.” 

Once he’s out of the room, Steve pokes Bucky in the side. Bucky smiles –not as asleep as he seems, then – and mumbles, “Night night, Jarvis.”

Steve can hardly lecture him with Jarvis listening. Of course. Steve sinks down against the pillows and hopes they won’t be here too long. Now that he’s actually met the Avengers here, it’s almost impossible to believe they’re drugging the other Bucky into submission.

Almost impossible for Steve, at least. He can almost hear Bucky scoffing even as he thinks it: _Of course they_ seem _nice, Steve. So did Coulson._

They may be here for a long, long time.


	20. Polarizing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plaid Bear meets the Bearvengers.

“You can’t be on the bed,” Bucky Bear says. He’s frowning. He’s usually frowning, but now he’s frowning so hard that Bucky expects the stitches holding his mask on to rip right out of his fur.

“Like I want to sit on your stupid bed in the first place!” Plaid Bear snaps. “I don’t want to catch your silverfish!”

“Hey now.” Captain Ameribear moves to the edge of the bed, looking down at Bucky and Plaid Bear on the floor. “There’s no need for personal remarks. I’m sure we can solve this conflict peacefully without—”

“Fuck off,” says Plaid Bear. “You’re the star-spangled dumbass who thinks it’s okay to let Bucky act like a helpless infant. I’m not listening to you.”

Bucky’s stomach is knotting tighter and tighter like it did at dinner when the other Bucky said he didn’t want to meet the Bearvengers. This isn’t _right_. The bears shouldn’t fight; Plaid Bear kept Bucky safe in the other world like Bucky Bear does here. They should get along.

But instead Bucky Bear’s snarling. “Apologize to Ameribear!”

“Or you’ll what?” Plaid Bear retorts. “I could take you with half my seams torn out!”

“Stop it!” Bucky pleads. “Don’t fight! You’d get along if you’d just—look, Bucky Bear’s really brave and smart and he’s the best at tactics—”

“He isn’t either.” Plaid Bear’s mouth doesn’t look sad anymore, just growly. “He’s just too stupid and needy to stop doing all the other bears’ grunt work for them.”

Bucky Bear grabs Iron Bear and throws him at Plaid Bear’s head, but Plaid Bear just steps sideways. Iron Bear’s asleep, so he doesn’t turn on his rocket boots and instead he just crashes onto the floor and skids on his face for a bit.

Bucky tastes metal and realizes he’s biting his fingers. Captain Ameribear looks horrified.

“You better watch out,” Plaid Bear says, but it doesn’t sound like he means it. “You pull that kind of shit and you’ll end up under a colander.”

Bucky never told Plaid Bear about the metal colander that Bucky Bear used to use for maintenance until Daddy and the doctors said it was a bad idea. He doesn’t know how Plaid Bear knows about it. His stomach aches so bad and everything’s going wrong and he doesn’t know what to _do_.

“No, he won’t!” Even Captain Ameribear’s shouting now. “We’d never do that to Bucky Bear!”

“Sure.” Plaid Bear looks both smirking and growly at once now. “Until you can’t control him anymore.”

“Quit it!” Bucky means it as an order, but his voice comes out weak and shaky. “Please! Plaid Bear’s nice, I promise—”

“Like hell I am!”

“—he just acts mean ‘cause he’s scared that bad SHIELD bears are listening in and—”

“I’m the meanest bear in this tower!” Plaid Bear shouts. “You take it back!”

“Don’t yell at Bucky!” Bucky Bear’s fur is all on end.

“Come down here and say that! Unless you’re too afraid to get your stuffing knocked out!”

This time, Bucky Bear throws Hawkbear at Plaid Bear, but Hawkbear misses too and ends up in Bucky’s wastebasket.


	21. The Shit Hits the Fan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve goes to talk to the other Steve, only to find him spiraling swiftly toward a total nervous breakdown.
> 
> Warnings for suicidal thoughts.

They’re going to be here forever.

That thought circles through his mind as he lies on the other Steve’s bed (he still can’t believe that Bucky kicked the other Steve out of his bed), staring at the city lights reflected off the ceiling. Bucky’s hair tickles his arm. If they have to stay here till Bucky trusts these people – then they’re never going to leave, because Bucky never trusts anyone. He barely trusts _Steve_. 

Someone honks far down below. Steve sits upright, as if the sound were an alarm clock, and swings his legs out of bed.

“Steve,” Bucky mutters.

“Getting a glass of water,” Steve lies. 

Bucky burrows into the pillow. 

Well, it’s not like Steve deserves to be trusted.

The apartment is empty. As he moves through it, the lights turn on, glowing dimly, a dusky light that must be designed not to wake a sleeper up too much. He wonders if the other Steve spends a lot of time pacing his apartment when he ought to be asleep. 

There’s no one here. He heads down the stairs, back to the Avengers’ common area, although he has no idea what he’ll do if he actually meets the other Avengers. _Hey, my Bucky thinks you might be evil_. Ha. No. 

But there’s no one there. The TV is off, the pillows tumbled around the sofas. A dim light shines out of the kitchen, but he can’t hear any voices. He could still just get that glass of water and go back to bed.

But then he enters the kitchen. And there’s the other Steve. 

He’s leaning over the sink, holding onto the edge with both hands. The tendons stand out in his arm, like it’s taking a lot of effort to hold himself upright. His head is bowed. 

“Steve,” Steve says. 

The other Steve lifts his head. It looks like its heavy. Then he shudders, and straightens, and turns, and he’s got the ghastliest attempt at a smile on his face. “Sorry,” he says. 

“Is that all you ever say?” Steve asks. 

The smile falters and falls. “Sorry,” the other Steve says again, like it’s a reflex. “You couldn’t sleep? Is the bed all right? I should have gotten more pillows.”

“No, it’s fine,” Steve says. “I just don’t sleep well. In general. It’s got nothing to do with your bed.”

The other Steve nods. “Your Bucky’s still asleep?”

Steve’s stomach squirms at the words _your Bucky_. “Oh yeah,” he says, and smiles, lopsided. “He could sleep through the apocalypse. Or at least an air strike.”

The other Steve doesn’t smile back. There are shadows under his eyes, and okay, he probably wasn’t sleeping too well after his accidental displacement to a parallel universe, but these look engrained, somehow. Like he hasn’t slept well for months. 

He sighs, and it quivers. “Sor – ” he begins, and looks at Steve, and stops himself. He’s holding himself tensely, like he expects a slap, and Steve wonders if it’s possible that his Bucky’s trauma rubbed off on him somehow. 

“I wanted to talk to you about Bucky,” he begins. 

And the other Steve actually flinches. “I know,” he says. “I know. I’ve been an asshole, and you must hate me – ”

“What? No,” Steve says. 

But the other Steve just barrels on. “ – and I can’t believe I didn’t see it, I’ve just gotten so used to how my Bucky reacts to his triggers that I guess I just didn’t think a different Bucky might react differently, but clearly I triggered him and then I shouted at him for being triggered and – ”

“What are you talking about?” Steve interrupts. 

“Back in your world,” the other Steve says. His shoulders hunch. “He was so different tonight. And I realized – I was thinking back – when we arrived in your world. He was all right until I brought up Bucky’s medicine. I triggered him, didn’t I?”

Steve is gaping, which is probably completely unhelpful. He closes his mouth, and opens it again, groping for words. “I,” he begins, and stutters to a halt. 

_I don’t think Bucky has triggers_ is what comes to mind. It’s definitely what Bucky would want him to say. 

“You even told me he had bad experiences with medication,” the other Steve says miserably. “But I didn’t get it. I got angry with him.” He closes his eyes, as if he can’t believe the depth of his crime. 

“Well,” Steve says cautiously, “he was pretty angry too.” Just the memory of Bucky’s furious roaring makes his ears hurt. 

“And I just shouted at him,” the other Steve says. “I didn’t try to understand at all. I was just going to walk out, remember?” 

“Well, that was after he upset your Bucky,” Steve tries. “Which was an asshole move, Steve, it’s not your fault – ”

But the other Steve barrels on. “I was going to abandon him. Exactly like I did when my Bucky first came back. When we first found out about – what Pierce did – I didn’t speak to him for nearly a month – ”

“You _what_?” Steve says. 

He’s appalled. He shouldn’t be, not after the way he abandoned his own Bucky for a whole summer on the Bus (with Coulson! Who was mindwiping people! Not that Steve knew at the time) – but fuck’s sake, his Bucky can look after himself. The one here is so fragile – 

No wonder he thinks he’s dirty. If even his Steve couldn’t stand to look at him after finding out about the abuse. 

“I ought to jump off the roof,” the other Steve whispers. 

Steve snaps back out of his head. “Absolutely you should not,” he says. Is Jarvis listening to this? Is Jarvis reporting it to – somebody better qualified to cope than Steve? “That’s a bad idea, that’s a terrible idea, please don’t kill yourself,” Steve is babbling now, and he must be channeling his inner Bucky, because the next thing he says is, “and it wouldn't even work, if falling off that train didn’t kill Bucky than I doubt a skydive into Manhattan will kill you either.”

The other Steve looks like he’s going to be sick. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have laid that on you. You’ve got enough to worry about.” 

“Steve,” Steve says, and he feels horribly close to laughter, although nothing is funny. “You don’t need to apologize for being suicidal.” 

The other Steve opens his mouth to argue. Steve interrupts, “No, you really don’t, man. Here. I’m gonna get you a glass of water, and we’ll – go sit down and – please don’t blame yourself for Bucky’s behavior, Steve. He’s just like that. He really is.” 

The other Steve’s face takes on a mulish look. Steve suddenly understands why that stubborn expression makes Bucky want to punch him. 

“He wasn’t like that tonight,” the other Steve says.

Steve curses Bucky to the depths of his soul. He can hardly tell the other Steve about Bucky’s suspicions _now_. It might literally kill him. “He was trying to make a good impression,” Steve says. “Being surrounded by new people in a new world is enough to intimidate anyone.”

He expects the other Steve to argue, but instead he just sighs. He looks almost small, standing there in the kitchen with his shoulders hunched and his head low, and Steve feels the urge to hug him.

With Bucky, this urge is usually counterproductive. Steve lays a tentative hand on his counterpart’s shoulder instead, firming his grip into a clasp when the other Steve doesn’t smack him away. “Sit,” he says, and the other Steve does; and “Drink,” Steve says, bringing him a glass of water, and the other Steve does that, too.

Steve fetches more water for them both and sits down. “Have you talked to anyone about this?” he asks.

The other Steve looks wary. “I haven’t had time,” he says. 

“Make time,” says Steve. He tries to sound firm but not unkind. “Think how upset Bucky would be if you jumped off a building,” he adds. That seems more likely to motivate the other Steve than anything else.

The other Steve closes his eyes. “I’d be abandoning him again,” he mutters. 

There must be something to say to that, but Steve can’t think of anything. He drinks his water instead and wishes it were whisky. 

“Excuse me, Captains,” says Jarvis. 

“Jarvis!” Steve says, and if Jarvis were a person Steve would fall on his neck with gratitude for the interruption. “What is it?”

“I’m afraid Director Coulson has arrived.”

The other Steve goes so white that Steve thinks he might faint. Then he stumbles out of his chair, and Steve stumbles up too, with the confused thought that Steve intends to try to throw the other Coulson off the roof. “You can’t,” Steve blurts. “It won’t help, I punched Coulson that one time and that’s why they let him into the Home now, it’s all my fault – ”

But the other Steve doesn’t make it that far. He lurches forward a few steps, but he doesn’t quite make it to the sink, and throws up on the kitchen floor.


	22. Unbearable Insult

Bucky wakes up alone. He sits up sharply, heart beating fast as he takes in the dim room, and slowing down almost as quickly when he realizes where he is. The other Steve’s room. Of course. The idiot wouldn’t even kick them out of his own bed. Probably sleeping on the floor somewhere.

Or talking to Bucky’s Steve, who has wandered off and left Bucky all alone. It’s too much to hope that he’s doing something useful, like staring at his feet and mumbling that he can’t sleep – hell, that would be a good way to see how quickly the Avengers pop out the pills in response to a problem. 

But no. Probably that one convivial dinner was enough to convince Steve that the Avengers couldn’t possibly be drugging this world’s Bucky into submission. Probably he’s feeling guilty about ever suspecting anyone. Probably he’s wandered off to confess those suspicions like they’re a sin, never mind that you can’t tell anything from one dinner, as if Coulson hadn’t thrown a thousand convivial dinners on the Bus, probably while mind-wiping someone in the room just down the hall – 

“Should I get Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes?”

Bucky jumps so hard at the sound of Jarvis’s voice that he just about cracks his head on the ceiling. “What the fuck is wrong with you!” he yells. Can that fucking computer read his mind?

“Your heart rate indicated distress,” Jarvis says. 

Oh, good. It’s only his heartbeat the fucking computer can read. Big Brother is watching you. 

“Sergeant Barnes – ” Jarvis begins. 

“Don’t call me Sergeant,” Bucky interrupts. Zola called him Sergeant. As did Coulson. “Agent. I’m an agent now.”

“Very good, Agent Barnes.” 

Bucky wants to punch Jarvis so badly that his metal fingers creak as they clench into a fist. “I don’t want to see Steve,” he says, even though he does, but fuck Jarvis. “I was going to look for the other Bucky. Is he on this floor?”

“Sergeant Barnes resides in the floor above, Agent Barnes.”

Bucky books it. He feels like he’s getting away from Jarvis, and that feels good, even though he knows it’s a lie: Jarvis is all around, watching, listening, monitoring heartbeats, feeding it all back into Tony, who is probably eating bonbons with his feet up on his desk contemplating just what to do with a couple of interlopers. 

Bucky’s in full steamroller mode by the time he reaches the other Bucky’s room. 

It’s not hard to find; the floor has the same layout as Steve’s. The other Bucky’s sitting on the floor in front of his bed, his hair hanging in his face. There’s a single bear on his lap. 

It must be the Sam bear. The wings are a perfect replica, except that one of them is askew. 

Christ, the bears are fucking amazing. They’re sitting against the walls, spaced at intervals, almost like they’re on display, and if any teddy bears deserve that, these do: the costumes are so fucking detailed, Bucky can tell at a glance who they’re supposed to be, a teddy bear Thor with an extravagant red cape and teddy bear Tony in a teddy-sized suit (does it have its own thrusters? A remote control maybe?) and – 

There’s Plaid Bear. He looks sad and cheap among all these teddy bear masterpieces. Not that he’s among them at all, really: he’s been exiled into the corner with his nose to the wall. 

“Jesus,” Bucky says. “You really fucking hate me.” 

The other Bucky’s head whips round. “No!” he cries. 

“Oh yeah? Then why’s the Plaid Bear sitting all alone?”

“He and Bucky Bear had a fight.” The other Bucky is rubbing the Sam teddy bear’s nose. “One of Falcon Bear’s wings broke when he hit the wall.” 

“Oh, so Falcon Bear hates the Plaid Bear too?” Bucky says. Which is accurate, really. Sam loathes Bucky. Fucking astute of the kid to pick up on it. 

“No! Bucky Bear threw him!” 

“Do you do this to the Avengers when they piss you off? Steve won’t let you have a second pudding cup, and all of a sudden Steve Bear – ”

“He’s _Captain Ameribear_ – ”

“ – is hanging over the edge of a volcano – ”

“No!” 

“Oh. So it’s just _my_ bear you torment. I get it.” Bucky’s striding across the room before he’s stopped to think, plucking Plaid Bear from his corner. “I’ll get him out of here for you.” _Throw him away_ , he almost says, but the teddy bear is soft in his hand and instead he finds himself saying, “He deserves better than this.”

He would march out of the room right then, but the other Bucky catches at his trouser leg, and Bucky makes the mistake of looking down. The kid looks close to tears. “It’s not like that,” he insists. “Bear Widow was going to negotiate. Everything was gonna get better.” 

“I bet,” Bucky says, sarcastic, but the kid is nodding frantically. 

“It was,” he insists. “Please just give me a chance to sort it out. I’m sure they can all get along.” 

There’s a dragging silence after that, as Bucky stands there, bear in hand, feeling more foolish by the minute, unable either to stalk out effectively after standing for this long or to put the bear back down. 

“Hello?” 

Goosebumps rise on Bucky’s arm at the sound of the voice. He lifts his head slowly, because it can’t be her. 

But it is. Skye. Standing in the doorway, one hand raised as if to knock on the doorframe. The other hand…

She’s clutching a pink elephant to her chest.

“Hi,” she says, and her voice is high and just – _wrong_ , all of this is just wrong. “Is it all right if I came to play with you? Daddy said I could.”

**Author's Note:**

> Check us out on Tumblr: [Lauralot](http://lauralot89.tumblr.com) and [ospreyarcher](http://ospreyarcher.tumblr.com).


End file.
